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LETTERS  TO  JACK 


WRITTEN  BY  A  PRIEST  TO 
HIS  NEPHEW 


By  the 
RIGHT  REV.  FRANCIS  C.  KELLEY,  D.D.,  LL.D. 

Author  of 

"  THE  LAST  BATTLE  OF  THE  GODS/' 
"  THE  CITY  AND  THE  WORLD," 
"  THE  BOOK  OF  BED  AND  YELLOW," 

Etc.,  Etc. 


With  a  Preface  by  His  Grace 
ARCHBISHOP    MUNDELEIN 


EXTENSION    PRESS 

223  WEST  JACKSON  BOULEVARD 

CHICAGO 

1917 


Nihil  Obstat 

P.   L.  BlEBMANN, 

Censor  Deputatus. 
Imprimatur 

GEORGE  WILLIAM  MUNDELEIN, 

Archbishop  of  Chicago. 


LOAN  STACK 


COPYRIGHT  1917 
BY  FRANCIS  CLEMENT  KELLEY 

All  rights  reserved 
Printed  in  U.  S.  A. 


CONTENTS 

PAGE 

ARCHBISHOP  MUNDELEIN  's  PREFACE. 5 

NOISE 13 

RELIGION 25 

LIVING - 39 

TEMPTATION 45 

THINKING 51 

FRIENDS 59 

ENEMIES 69 

RULE  AND  SERVICE 81 

OTHER  PEOPLE 95 

THE  WORLD 109 

CITIZENSHIP  119 

CLEANLINESS 129 

LOVE    135 

THE  PLAIN  MAN 143 

THE  ENTHUSIAST 149 

THE  CONSERVATIVE 157 

CRITICISM   165 

HATRED 173 

SILENCE 181 

DREAMERS 189 

OLD  THINGS 197 

HUMILITY 209 

INSPIRATION  217 

OPPORTUNITIES 225 

LOYALTY 233 

BURDEN  BEARERS 241 

VISION  251 

3 

•        073 


PKEFACE 
BY  THE  ARCHBISHOP  OF  CHICAGO 

We  are  living  in  a  town  which  possesses  a  most 
energetic  public  official.  I  have  rarely,  if  ever, 
found  a  harder- working  head  of  department  than 
the  present  Commissioner  of  Health  in  the  city 
of  Chicago.  When  he  goes  in  pursuit  of  a  disease- 
germ,  it  is  all  over  with  the  germ ;  for  the  attack 
will  be  made  with  a  ferocity  that  is  appalling.  So 
say  his  friends,  and  they  are  many.  Nor  will  he 
neglect  to  ally  himself  with  anyone  who  can  be 
useful  to  him  in  stamping  out  disease  when  exist- 
ing, or  preventing  its  spread  when  threatening. 
The  writer  has  good  reason  to  know,  for  he  fell 
a  victim  to  the  doctor's  persuasive  powers,  and 
became  an  ally  in  the  campaign.  All  this  brings 
me  to  one  of  the  great  subjects  of  discussion 
at  the  present  time. 

The  tendency  of  medical  research  to-day  is 
directed  far  more  towards  prevention  than  cure. 
As  soon  as  a  new  disease  raises  its  head,  or  a  con- 
tagion appears  to  spread  among  children  or 
adults,  at  once  the  laboratories  of  the  country 
work  day  and  night  to  find  the  inimical  microbe, 

5 


6  PREFACE 

discover  its  origin,  isolate  the  germ,  and  ferret 
out  its  fertile  soil ;  it  is  the  application  in  medi- 
cine of  the  old  adage  "an  ounce  of  prevention  is 
better  than  a  pound  of  cure."  If  it  holds  good  in 
this  corruptible  body  of  ours,  why  should  not  the 
same  rule  apply  to  the  soul  ?  If  we  try  to  ward 
off  disease  from  the  infant  and  the  growing  child, 
why  should  we  not  adopt  the  same  precaution  in 
training  the  growing  boy  or  girl,  young  man  or 
young  woman  ?  Especially  does  this  hold  good  in 
the  case  of  youth  budding  into  manhood.  It  is 
then  that  a  lad  is  angular,  somewhat  rough  and 
uncouth,  and  by  no  means  attractive  in  his  per- 
sonality; simply  because  he  is  emerging  from 
boyhood  and  settling  slowly  into  manhood;  be- 
cause then  his  character  is  forming,  his  habits 
becoming  more  fixed,  and  he  still  lacks  the  finish 
that  experience  will  supply.  It  is  a  time  when  he 
needs  good  sane  advice,  given  in  sugared  capsules, 
administered  in  patient,  kindly  doses;  when  he 
should  have  the  prompt  infusion  of  "friendly 
microbes"  by  a  wise  physician  in  order  to  fight 
the  disease  germs  that  he  will  take  in  from  bad 
companions,  from  vile  literature,  from  careless, 
conscienceless  elders  and  superiors.  It  is  here 
that  this  little  volume  will  play  its  part.  I  do  not 
know  whether  the  author  is  an  uncle  or  not,  but 
he  certainly  can  talk  like  one.  A  father  really 
ought  to  be  a  boy's  closest  friend,  especially  in  the 


PREFACE  7 

years  when  he  feels  that  he  is  emancipating  from 
the  domination  of  the  maternal  apron-string.  But 
most  of  us  know  that  the  father  feels  he  is  too  busy 
to  play  that  role,  or  he  is  fearful  that  it  may  bring 
about  an  infringement  on  the  sacred  rights  of  his 
paternal  authority.  Of  course  such  an  attitude 
never  would  undermine  a  father's  jurisdic- 
tion; rather  such  friendly  intercourse  would 
strengthen,  preserve,  immortalize  it;  but  most 
fathers  find  that  out  too  late  in  life. 

But  sometimes  you  will  find  a  bachelor  uncle 
in  a  family  who  brings  in  pocketfuls  of  candies 
to  the  youngster,  bushels  of  roses  to  the  de- 
butantes and  smiling  good  advice  to  the  awkward 
squad  of  young  nephews,  and  to  them  all  he  is 
ever  a  hero,  an  idol  and,  later,  a  depository  of 
secrets  and  a  never-ending  source  of  advice.  Just 
such  a  role  has  the  author  of  this  book  assumed. 
In  an  easy  conversational  style  he  talks  to  the 
young  fellow  about  pretty  nearly  everything. 
Without  adding  any  irritation  to  his  reader's  sen- 
sitive spirit  of  adolescent  pride,  without  brushing 
the  furry  mustache  of  the  young  man  the  wrong 
way ;  finally,  without  letting  the  interest  lag,  he  is 
giving  him  just  as  much  salutary  advice  as  the 
young  fellow's  system  will  absorb  with  ease.  At 
the  same  time  he  does  not  assume  the  preaching 
attitude  of  a  reverent  relic  of  a  past  generation ; 
but  rather  he  lets  the  young  man  feel  that  he  is 


8  PREFACE 

listening  to  the  advice  given  by  a  chum,  a  friend 
who  has  the  one  thing  that  he  lacks,  namely,  ex- 
perience. And  it  is  one  of  the  experiences  of  those 
who  have  dealt  with  young  men  of  today,  that  they 
listen  gladly  to  advice,  just  as  willingly  as  their 
sisters.  But  they  do  require  from  the  one  offer- 
ing counsel  and  guidance  certain  qualifications  to 
make  what  he  offers  palatable  and  attractive. 
They  want  to  be  talked  to  without  any  patronizing 
attitude — ' l  man  to  man, ' '  as  they  say.  Then  they 
require  that  the  other  possesses  the  necessary 
qualification  of  knowledge,  that  he  knows  what 
he  is  talking  about,  that ' '  he  has  the  goods, ' '  as  one 
of  them  expressed  it  to  me.  Finally  they  want 
absolute  sincerity, — "on  the  level,"  as  they  term 
it.  And  then,  if  the  young  man  once  becomes  at- 
tached to  you,  even  though  he  may  fail  sometimes 
to  follow  your  advice,  he  is  and  remains  loyal  to 
you,  even  the  devil  himself  cannot  tear  him  from 
you.  After  many  years  of  dealing  with  Catholic 
young  men,  recognizing  their  frailties,  the  defi- 
ciencies in  their  make-up,  and  the  disappointment 
of  one's  hopes  they  often  produce,  yet  I  maintain 
that  one  of  the  most  beautiful  works  in  God's 
creation  is  an  honest,  clear-eyed,  clean-minded 
young  Catholic  American.  I  assure  you,  he  is  well 
worth  saving ;  and  anything  that  will  help  to  keep 
him  good,  hold  him  steady,  prevent  him  from 
straying,  should  receive  the  encouragement  of  all 


PREFACE  9 

of  us  who  are  interested  in  the  saving  of  souls. 
One  of  the  means  to  accomplish  this  is  by  giving 
him  a  book  that  is  written  especially  for  him,  that 
will  interest  him,  and  will  prevent  the  disease 
germs  of  corruption  and  bad  habits  from  eating 
their  way  into  his  soul.  I  believe  this  book  of  let- 
ters will'  help  some  to  accomplish  this ;  and  so  I 
cordially  second  the  sentiments  of  the  official 
censor  of  Catholic  literature  in  this  Archdiocese, 
who  concluded  his  examination  by  saying:  "I 
would,  if  I  could,  put  a  copy  of  this  book  into  the 
hands  of  every  young  man." 

GEORGE  WILLIAM  MUNDELEEST, 

Archbishop  of  Chicago. 


I 

NOISE 

THE  noisy  boy  is  a  delight.    The  noisy  man  is  a 
nuisance. 


DON'T  be  noisy  enough  to  make  people  think  you 
are  not  genuine;  but  don't  be  quiet  enough  to 
make  them  think  you  are  a  nonentity,  or  afraid. 


THE  biggest  noise  is  always  made  by  the  biggest 
failure. 


NOISE 
My  dear  Jack: 

This  morning  you  started  down  from  your  bed- 
room on  the  third  floor  like  a  barrel  of  nails,  and 
landed  with  a  thud  in  front  of  the  breakfast 
table.  It  is  true  that  you  had  only  a  few  minutes 
in  which  to  bolt  your  breakfast,  rush  for  a  car, 
and  get  down  to  work  at  the  office.  Knowing 
that,  I  said  nothing  about  the  noise ;  and  then  I 
wanted  to  see  how  far  it  would  go.  Breakfast 
over,  there  was  a  rush  to  the  door,  a  bang,  a  hurry 
down  the  steps,  and  peace  descended  upon  me 
again.  My  Matins  finished,  I  sat  for  a  moment 
to  think  you  out;  and  I  made  up  my  mind 
that  you  were  too  much  like  your  uncle .  at 
the  same  age ;  so  I  resolved  to  write  you  a  series 
of  letters,  and  begin  on  Noise.  But  the  letters 
that  I  am  going  to  write  are  not  entirely  for  you. 
I  am  in  hopes  that  they  will  reach  a  multitude  of 
Jacks,  living  all  over  this  broad  land  of  North 
America ;  every  one  of  them  the  son  of  Catholic 
parents,  every  one  of  them  beginning  life  as  you 
are,  every  one  of  them  full  of  hope  and  ambition  ; 
and,  too,  every  one  of  them  just  a  plain  Catholic 

13 


14  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

boy  who  makes  a  noise  now  to  bother  more  an- 
cient nerves  than  those  possessed  by  youth ;  but 
who  expect  to  make  a  noise  later  on  in  a  different 
way  that  will  better,  not  bother,  the  world.  In- 
evitably I  will  have  to  make  the  general  theme  of 
my  letters  the  old  theme  of  success;  though, 
frankly,  I  dislike  the  word.  You  see,  success 
means  a  different  thing  to  almost  every  individ- 
ual. My  idea  of  it  may  not  be  yours ;  but  all  of 
us  know  the  idea  by  the  same  name.  I  wont 
attempt  to  "define  what  I  mean  by  it,  nor  ask  you 
what  you  mean.  I  am  going  to  try  to  make  these 
letters  the  definition. 

The  worst  way  to  begin  a  day — any  day — is  as 
you  did  this  morning.  You  were  due  at  your 
office  at  eight-thirty.  It  is  a  forty  minute  walk 
from  this  house.  I  heard  you  get  up,  because  you 
dropped  one  shoe  at  exactly  seven-thirty.  You 
were  at  breakfast  twenty  minutes  later,  which 
means  that  you  dressed  carelessly,  splashed  into 
your  bath  and  out  again,  had  no  time  to  shave, 
rushed  through  your  breakfast  and  then  caught 
a  car,  though  you  are  young  and  needed  the  walk. 
You  arrived  at  your  office  with  the  beginnings  of 
an  indigestion  in  your  system  which  will  be  in 
full  control  of  your  stomach  at  thirty.  By  walk- 
ing you  would  have  saved  five  cents,  though,  of 
course,  you  would  have  lost  it  by  the  wear  and 
tear  on  shoe  leather;  that,  however,  would  not 


NOISE  15 

have  been  entirely  a  loss,  for  you  would,  by  walk- 
ing, have  made  a  beginning  of  a  good  habit,  and 
laid  the  foundation  for  good  health.  A  walk 
would  have  meant  entrance  to  your  place  of  work 
with  a  clear  head,  a  bright  eye  and  a  cheerful  dis- 
position. You  read  a  paper  all  the  way  down- 
town— at  least  you  took  a  paper  as  you  left  the 
house.  You,  therefore,  saw  nothing.  Had  you 
walked,  you  would  have  noticed  the  sun  and  the 
fact  that  it  is  springtime.  Had  you  let  your 
thoughts  run,  you  would  have  been  storing  up 
things  good  for  you  later  on.  People  are  far 
more  interesting  to  read  than  morning  papers. 
A  certain  friend  of  mine  has  a  habit,  he  tells  me, 
of  reading  the  daily  paper  standing  up,  so  that 
he  wont  lose  time  over  it.  It  is  a  good  habit, 
worth  cultivating.  As  it  is,  you  got  to  your  office 
with  the  wrong  sort  of  a  tired  feeling,  the  feeling 
that  is  born  of  insufficient  sleep — you  were  up 
late  the  night  before,  you  know ;  and  I  was  not 
able  then  to  drive  you  to  bed.  In  addition,  you 
had  twenty  minutes  of  the  bad  air  of  the  street 
car ;  and  you  started  your  labor  when  you  started 
that  paper.  You  had  already  been  working  for 
yourself  before  you  began  to  work  for  your  em- 
ployer; so  you  did  not,  therefore,  give  him  what 
he  was  paying  you  for — the  fine  fresh  hours  of 
the  day. 

It  was  really  only  a  symptom,  that  noise.    You 


16  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

are  not  yet  old  enough  to  have  gotten  over  the 
habit.  A  boy  who  makes  a  noise  around  the  house 
is  a  healthy  boy ;  but  you  are  just  on  the  verge  of 
manhood.  The  noisy  boy  is  a  delight.  The  noisy 
man  is  a  nuisance.  Nobody  wants  to  have  a  noisy 
man  around,  because  he  isn't  natural.  There  is 
something  of  the  cheat  about  a  noisy  man.  He 
is  like  a  shouting  mob  that  hasn't  anything  really 
back  of  it  but  excitement.  His  good  nature  is  too 
often  assumed.  He  is  afraid  people  will  get  to 
know  him  as  he  is,  so  he  shouts  to  keep  some  one 
from  asking  questions  which  he  cannot  answer. 
At  twenty  it  is  wise  already  to  have  passed  two 
years  trying  to  eliminate  a  boyish  disposition,  so 
that,  when  you  begin  the  life  of  business,  you  will 
have  learned  something  of  the  gentle  art  that  a 
certain  statesman  calls  "pussyfooting".  I  do 
not,  however,  quite  counsel  that.  The  Latins  say 
"In  medio  stat  virtus",  which,  by  enlargement, 
means  that  in  moderation  is  good  sense.  It  is  a 
wise  saying.  I  had  a  friend,  a  bachelor,  who 
hired  a  Japanese  servant.  The  Jap  stayed  about 
one  month  and  was  then  incontinently  fired.  Now 
the  Jap  was  a  good  cook  and  a  good  valet,  so  I 
asked  my  friend  why  he  had  let  him  go.  He 
answered :  "Because  I  became  afraid  of  him.  I 
never  knew  out  of  what  dark  corner  he  would 
glide  at  a  most  unexpected  time.  He  had  feet  like 
a  cat,  and  eyes  that  didn't  show  in  the  dark.  He 


NOISE  17 

got  on  my  nerves.  I  wanted  a  little  noise  to  re- 
lieve the  monotony — so  there  you  are."  The  les- 
son from  both  extremes  is :  don't  be  noisy  enough 
to  make  people  think  you  are  not  genuine ;  but 
don't  be  quiet  enough  to  make  them  think  you 
are  a  nonentity  or  afraid.  Don't  shout ;  but  then 
don't  whisper.  Don't  talk  all  the  time ;  but  then 
don't  be  silent.  Come  down  stairs  as  if  the  stairs 
were  intended  to  be  walked  on,  not  pounded ;  but 
come  down  as  if  you  were  walking  on  stairs,  not 
air.  Don't  shout  "good  morning"  from  another 
room ;  but  come  in  and  say  it  as  if  you  meant  it. 
Give  yourself  time  to  dress,  and  learn  the  pleas- 
ure of  walking  and  observing  as  you  walk.  Form 
the  habit.  It  is  worth  while.  I  wish  I  had  formed 
it  when  I  was  your  age. 

But  this  noise  question  is  bigger  still.  The 
average  boy  who  is  working  for  success,  says  that 
he  is  "  going  to  make  a  noise  in  the  world ' '.  Now 
get  it  out  of  your  mind,  my  dear  Jack,  that  the 
man  who  makes  a  noise  in  the  world  is  successful. 
He  isn't.  The  biggest  noise  is  usually  made  by 
the  biggest  criminal.  It  is  easy  enough  to  make 
a  noise,  if  you  care  only  for  the  fact  of  it.  The 
man  who  starts  out  with  the  idea  that  success  con- 
sists of  having  people  notice  him,  or  having  his 
picture  in  the  paper,  often  gets  it  through  most 
devious  ways ;  and  his  noise  is  good  neither  for 
his  fellows  nor  for  himself.  It  ends  sometimes 


18  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

by  a  choking  sensation  after  dropping  from  a 
platform. 

There  is  another  kind  of  noise  often  coupled 
with  the  idea  of  success.  It  is  the  noise  of  simple 
failure.  It  is  much  like  the  noise  you  made  this 
morning.  You  hear  the  rumble  of  it  and  then  the 
thud  that  ends  it.  It  isn't  good  for  anybody,  but 
we  all  have  to  notice  it.  The  thud  is  the  failure ; 
for,  mark  you,  the  biggest  noise  is  often  made 
by  the  biggest  failure.  There  is  no  thud  at  the 
end  of  the  pleasing  noise  that  is  made  by  a  suc- 
cessful man.  It  begins  small  and  it  grows.  Its 
volume  increases,  but  it  is  musical  and  pleasant, 
even  at  its  height.  It  doesn't  end  even  when  the 
man  dies.  It  merely  begins  to  soften,  and  then 
melts  away  rather  than  ends.  How  long  it  takes 
thus  to  melt  away,  depends  upon  the  measure  of 
success  that  the  individual  who  was  responsible 
for  it  has  had.  That's  the  kind  of  a  noise  to 
make  in  the  world,  and  you  can  make  it  if  you 
want  to.  Let  me  tell  you  how. 

You  begin  at  the  simplest  thing  possible — 
opening  your  eyes  in  the  morning  at  a  fixed  hour. 
When  they  are  open  they  stay  open.  You  waste 
no  time  in  being  alive.  You  master  yourself  by 
not  closing  them  to  take  another  nap.  In  other 
words,  you  begin  your  day  with  a  victory,  and 
thus  you  help  to  cultivate  a  will.  You  get  out  of 
your  bed  after  an  offering  of  the  day  to  your 


NOISE  19 

Maker,  and  so  He  has  the  first  moment  to  Him- 
self. You  dress  like  a  gentleman,  not  because 
your  clothes  are  tailor-made  and  of  fine  cloth,  but 
because  you  see  that  they  hang  right  and  are 
clean.  You  hurry  through  nothing,  even  your 
morning  plunge.  You  put  "snap"  into  your 
dressing.  You  take  the  measure  of  your  own 
weaknesses,  and  therefore  of  yourself,  by  an  act 
of  humility.  You  get  down  on  your  knees  to  the 
One  Who  alone  is  Great.  You  have  a  cordial 
smile  for  every  one  you  meet  in  the  morning, 
particularly  for  those  who  wait  on  you;  since 
you,  like  myself,  like  my  superiors,  and  like  their 
superiors,  and  then  like  their  superiors,  are  ser- 
vants. We  must  all  of  us  serve ;  and  service  is 
honorable.  Since  you  have  a  heart,  every  servant 
has  a  heart  and  kindness  reaches  it.  I  would 
rather,  my  dear  Jack,  be  loved  by  those  who  serve 
me  than  by  those  whom  I  serve.  There  is  a  priest 
of  my  acquaintance  who  once  said :  ' '  Mine  has 
been  a  strange  fate.  Every  one  under  me  loves 
me ;  every  one  of  my  equals  is  suspicious  of  me  ; 
but  my  superiors  all  seem  to  dislike  me."  I  said 
to  him:  "You  are  a  successful  man.  If  your 
superiors  seem  to  dislike  you,  perhaps  it  is  be- 
cause you  are  too  big  for  them.  If  your  equals 
are  suspicious  of  you,  perhaps  it  is  because  they 
envy  you.  But  if  those  who  serve  you  love  you, 
it  proves  that  you  are  good." 


20  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

When  you  leave  the  house  you  will  remember 
that  God  made  the  sun  for  you,  and  that  the  grass 
and  trees  bloom  for  you.  Part  of  your  inherit- 
ance is  the  glory  of  nature  that  is  around  you. 
If  you  do  not  enjoy  that  inheritance,  you  are  los- 
ing one  of  the  finest  things  in  life.  The  people 
you  meet  are  destined  to  educate  you ;  you  may 
read  the  lessons  in  their  morning  faces.  You 
thank  God  for  His  care  of  you  when  you  see  how 
much  better  off  you  are,  or  think  you  are,  than 
others.  In  the  luxurious  motor  cars  that  glide 
past  you,  you  have  an  incentive  to  work.  You 
have  good  health  offered  as  you  inhale  the  fresh 
air  and  exercise  your  limbs.  When  you  enter 
your  office,  your  geniality  will  make  others  genial, 
others  who  may  not  have  taken  advantage  of 
the  things  around  them  as  you  have.  You  will 
remember  that  you  have  only  two  commodities  to 
sell — your  brains  and  your  hands.  These  your 
employer  bought  for  the  space  of  eight  hours. 
He  owns  them.  You  made  a  contract  with  him  as 
binding  as  a  mortgage  or  a  sale.  It  has  not  been 
registered  in  the  public  records,  but  it  is  regis- 
tered in  your  conscience,  and  therefore  before 
God.  You  give  to  your  employer's  work  exactly 
the  same  attention  that  he  gives  to  superintend- 
ing it;  it  makes  no  difference  that  he  earns 
twenty-five  thousand  a  year,  and  you  earn  only 
twenty-five  dollars  a  week.  He  took  you  when 


NOISE  21 

you  were  not  worth  even  that;  and  he  came  up, 
just  as  you  will  come  up,  by  giving  an  honest 
measure  ef  attention  and  time  to  little  things. 
Your  first  noise  will  be  made  in  that  office,  and  it 
may  not  be  much  of  a  noise.  But  it  will  grow 
slowly  and  surely,  until  someone  hears  it;  and 
then  you  will  have  taken  the  first  step  upward. 
That's  the  noise  that  is  worth  while. 

Now  to  sum  up.  Each  day  that  you  begin  is 
like  the  life  that  you  begin,  at  twenty.  If  you 
begin  right,  you  will  end  right.  If  you  plant  good 
seeds,  good  things  will  grow.  If  you  begin  by 
being  thoughtful,  you  will  end  by  being  thought- 
ful. If  you  begin  with  God,  you  will  end  with 
God. 


II 

RELIGION 

THE  strongest  willed  people  in  the  world  were 
saints;  and  the  happiest  and  sanest  people  in  the 
world  were  saints. 


To  live  a  good  example  is  to  do  a  double  good. 


NOTHING  is  little  that  is  done  for  God's  honor 
and  glory. 


KELIGION 
My  dear  Jack: 

In  yesterday's  letter  I  mentioned  two  things 
that  gave  me  an  idea  as  to  what  I  should  write 
today.  One  you  will  find  in  this  quotation :  "You 
begin  at  the  simplest  thing  possible — opening 
your  eyes  in  the  morning  at  a  fixed  hour.  When 
they  are  open  they  stay  open.  You  waste  no  time 
in  being  alive.  You  master  yourself  by  not  clos- 
ing them  to  take  another  nap.  In  other  words, 
you  begin  your  day  with  a  victory,  and  thus  you 
help  the  cultivation  of  a  will. ' '  The  other  follows 
immediately:  "You  get  out' of  your  bed  after 
an  offering  of  the  day  to  your  Maker,  and  so 
He  has  the  first  moment  to  Himself." 

I  have  always  had  an  idea  that  the  thing  lack- 
ing in  most  young  men  who  are  striving  to  make 
a  noise  in  the  world  is  the  cultivation  of  the  will. 
A  few  weeks  ago  I  was  delighted  to  read  a  book 
on  that  very  subject  by  a  Father  Barrett,  an  Irish 
Jesuit  I  believe,  who  seems  to  have  made  a  special 
study  of  the  will.  In  it  I  found  all  my  poor  ideas 
admirably  expressed,  and  better  ones  in  addition. 
By  all  means,  get  that  book  and  read  it.  It  will 
do  you  a  world  of  good ;  and,  if  he  again  writes 

25 


26  LETTERS  TO  'JACK 

something  on  the  same  subject,  follow  him  up. 
He  knows  what  he  is  talking  about.  Father  Bar- 
rett suggests  a  certain  number  of  exercises  for 
the  cultivation  of  the  will  which  doubtless  are  of 
great  value ;  but  you  must  remember  that  he  is 
addressing  a  very  general  audience.  If  he  were 
addressing  his  brothers  in  religion,  he  would 
probably  suggest  the  Exercises  of  St.  Ignatius. 
If  he  were  addressing  an  audience  of  Catholic 
young  men,  he  could  easily  and  admirably  sum  up 
what  he  has  to  say  by  telling  them  to  cultivate 
practices  of  religion.  The  best  treatise  on  the 
cultivation  of  the  will  is  the  best  treatise  on  the 
cultivation  of  a  spiritual  life.  The  strongest 
willed  men  in  the  world  were  saints ;  and  the  hap- 
piest and  sanest  people  in  the  world  were  saints. 
There  are  many  saints  who  were  never  canonized. 
The  reason  is  that  the  average  saint  first  learned 
how  to  conceal  from  the  world  the  fact  that  he 
was  a  saint.  The  only  canonized  saints  are  those 
who  were  discovered;  and  the  fact  that  they 
were  discovered  was  always  their  greatest 
annoyance. 

The  best  way  to  be  a  saint  is  to  start  on  your 
path  to  sanctity  with  the  greatest  possible  secrecy. 
Keep  it  dark — as  dark  as  you  can.  Of  course, 
it  is  true  that  we  are  told  on  extremely  compe- 
tent authority  that  we  must  not  hide  our  light 
under  a  bushel ;  in  other  words,  we  are  expected 


RELIGION  27 

to  give  a  good  example.  But  a  saint  does  not 
have  to  worry  about  that;  for,  the  more  he  tries 
to  conceal  his  light,  the  sooner  will  his  good  exam- 
ple be  noticed  and  the  effect  follow.  The  most 
effective  good  example  does  not  come  from 
shouted  prayers.  When  I  was  a  boy  in  the  old 
Cathedral,  where  you  followed  me  as  a  chorister, 
there  was  one  man  whose  voice  was  always  heard 
over  all  others  in  the  answers  to  the  Rosary.  In 
my  youth  I  was  simple  enough  to  think  he  was 
a  saint.  When  I  grew  up,  I  knew  that  he  was  a 
little  of  an  oddity.  No  grown-up  person  ever  mis- 
takes eccentricity  for  sanctity ;  and  one  thing  you 
will  discover  very  soon  is  the  fact  that  the  aver- 
age man  is  suspicious  of  the  neighbor  whose 
religion  is  too  much  on  his  lips. 

To  begin  to  cultivate  religion  in  a  quiet,  secret 
way  is  to  start  work  on  the  little  things.  If  you 
do  not  close  your  eyes  to  take  another  nap  in  the 
morning  because  you  know  that  God  wants  you 
to  cultivate  being  alive,  and  because  He  does  not 
want  you  to  acquire  habits  of  self-indulgence  and 
sloth,  it  is  an  act  of  religion  that  is,  at  the  same 
time,  a  cultivation  of  the  will.  It  is  a  splendidly 
good  way  to  begin  a  day.  If  you  get  out  of  bed 
while  your  eyes  are  heavy  with  sleep  because  it  is 
your  religious  duty  to  do  so,  you  make  it  easy  to 
get  out  of  bed.  There  is  no  satisfaction  like  the 
satisfaction  of  having  done  a  little  thing  right, 


28  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

but  nothing  is  little  that  is  done  for  God's  honor 
and  glory. 

When  you  start  a  day  right,  it  is  easy  to  keep 
it  right.  You  may  be  in  a  hurry,  but  your  morn- 
ing prayers  do  not  take  up  much  time;  and  if 
you  get  into  the  habit  of  missing  them  you  are 
losing,  not  only  the  spiritual  benefit  of  the 
prayers,  but  also  the  benefit  that  comes  from  the 
cultivation  of  your  will.  You  are  losing,  too,  the 
little  act  of  humility  that  is  so  powerful  in  put- 
ting you  where  you  belong  and  keeping  you  there. 
You  are  losing  the  force  that  holds  you  to  your 
work  when  you  really  do  not  care  to  work.  You 
have  stumbled  on  the  first  step  that  leads  to  the 
vague  thing  which  men  call  Success.  The  fact 
that  you  were  weak  in  the  morning  when  you 
stood  in  the  presence  of  God  will  weaken  you  all 
day  when  you  must  stand  in  the  presence  of  men. 
If  you  fail  to  do  a  simple  little  thing  for  your 
Maker,  how  can  you  expect  to  do  other  worth 
while  things  for  the  sake  of  filthy  lucre  ? 

Now  I  know,  Jack,  just  as  well  as  you  do,  that 
religion  isn't  popular  in  the  world;  and  I  am 
going  to  say  an  astonishing  thing:  what  passes 
in  that  same  world  for  " religion"  is  not  particu- 
larly popular  with  priests.  Priests  know,  better 
than  other  people,  what  it  is  that  passes  for  re- 
ligion in  a  great  many  men — loud-voiced  procla- 
mations, assurances  that  one  has  it,  efforts  to  in- 


RELIGION  29 

fluence  in  business  or  politics  through  it,  a  self- 
righteous  manner  that  implies  a  scorn  for  others. 
This  is  the  sort  of  thing  that  parades  as  religion, 
but  it  is  not  religion;  and  there  is  no  one  who 
hates  that  sort  of  thing  more  than  the  average 
priest,  because  he  sees  through  the  sham. 

Again  going  back  to  my  boyhood  days,  I  re- 
member well  a  family  of  two,  man  and  wife, 
whose  names  I  never  knew  and  do  not  know  to 
this  day.  That  man  and  his  wife  impressed  me 
more  than  any  others  in  the  great  Cathedral  par- 
ish, where  we  had  a  governor,  some  judges,  and 
the  nearest  approach  to  a  millionaire  in  the  whole 
country.  This  man  and  his  wife  were  not  mil- 
lionaires, nor  did  they  hold  any  great  offices.  He 
was  just  a  clean,  upstanding,  rather  good-looking 
and  very  quiet  man.  She  seemed  to  fit  his  com- 
panionship, and  that's  all  I  can  say  about  her. 
She  belonged  to  him  and  he  belonged  to  her.  I 
never  spoke  a  word  to  either  of  them ;  but  Sunday 
after  Sunday,  at  the  same  hour  precisely,  they 
took  their  seats  in  a  pew  near  my  father's.  Month 
after  month,  I  saw  them  go  to  Communion  to- 
gether. If  I  went  to  a  gathering  of  any  kind 
amongst  the  parishioners,  I  looked  around  to  see 
if  they  were  there ;  and  if  they  were  not,  I  seemed 
to  have  some  sort  of  a  suspicion  that  the  gather- 
ing was  not  an  entire  success.  I  once  had  charge 
of  a  concert  given  by  the  choir  boys.  All  the  lads 


30  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

except  myself  sold  tickets  for  it.  I  had  the  man- 
agement and  was  freed  from  the  duty  of  ringing 
doorbells.  But  for  weeks  I  would  find  myself 
wondering  if  the  concert  was  going  to  be  a  suc- 
cess, and  somehow  in  my  mind  letting  it  depend 
upon  whether  or  not  that  couple  came  to  it.  I 
stood  at  the  door  of  the  hall  on  the  night  of  the 
concert.  My  man  and  woman  appeared,  and  I 
then  and  there  handed  over  the  tickets  to  another 
boy.  It  was  time  for  the  concert  to  begin ;  they 
had  arrived.  Mark  you,  Jack,  I  was  not  worry- 
ing about  the  governor,  or  the  judges,  or  the 
so-called  millionaire,  though  I  respected  them 
all.  The  people  I  was  looking  for  were  just  the 
plain  simple  people  I  had  picked  as  the  best. 

Now  what  was  it  that  made  me  think  these  peo- 
ple were  really  the  most  important  in  the  parish  ? 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  they  were  not,  taking  them 
as  merely  two  individuals  or  one  family.  But  in 
the  aggregate  they  were  the  most  important.  The 
parish  depended,  not  upon  its  few  influential  and 
wealthy  people,  but  upon  the  many  who  were  like 
these — clean,  honest,  unpretentious,  quietly  good, 
and  faithful  to  every  obligation.  They  repre- 
sented a  type.  More  than  that,  the  whole  Church, 
under  God,  depends  upon  such  people ;  the  whole 
country  depends  upon  them  even  more ;  and,  mak- 
ing things  still  stronger,  the  whole  world  depends 
upon  them.  The  other  day,  I  was  reading  a  book 


RELIGION  31 

on  Mexico,  written  by  a  lady  who  had  lived  for 
a  long  time  in  Mexico  City.  I  stopped  to  think 
over  two  remarks.  One  is  a  quotation  made 
from  General  Huerta,  who  said :  "  Mexico  is  like 
a  snake.  All  its  life  is  in  its  head.  I  am  the 
head."  The  other  is  from  herself:  "How  can  a 
nation  be  successful  that  depends  only  upon  the 
extremes?" 

The  General  was  wrong  and  the  lady  was  right. 
No  nation  depends  upon  its  head.  It  depends 
upon  its  heart  and  its  stomach,  since  it  is  from 
the  stomach  whence  comes  the  strength  that  feeds 
the  brain,  and  it  is  the  heart  that  feeds  the  blood 
coursing  through  all.  People  such  as  those  I 
admired  are  the  heart  and  stomach,  not  only  of 
nations,  but  of  the  world.  I  would  rather  see  you 
succeed  in  making  people  look  for  you  as  these 
people  made  me  look  for  them,  than  that  you 
should  become  a  millionaire. 

When  an  athlete  starts  to  run  a  race,  the  things 
that  count  are  his  muscles  and  his  wind.  For  a 
long  time  he  was  preparing  in  quiet  to  strengthen 
both  of  these  necessities.  But  in  the  race  he  for- 
gets his  training.  He  does  not  have  to  think 
about  it.  That's  about  the  way  it  is,  Jack,  with 
regard  to  religion.  The  thing  is,  to  be  what  re- 
ligious training  makes  us;  and  everybody  will 
know  we  are  trained  without  telling  them.  It  is 
the  consequences  of  religion  that  a  man  should 


32  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

have.  It  is  the  consequences  of  religion  that  the 
world  should  chiefly  see.  I  once  met  a  man  who 
was  a  very  ardent  admirer  of  the  Catholic  Church, 
but  he  was  not  a  member  of  it.  During  his  con- 
versation with  me  I  learned  that  he  knew  prac- 
tically nothing  about  it ;  and  so  I  asked  him,  out 
of  curiosity,  how  he  had  become  so  enthusiastic. 
To  my  utter  astonishment,  he  told  me  the  reason 
why  he  admired  the  Catholic  Church  was,  because 
every  Sunday  morning  at  half  past  five  he  was 
awakened  by  the  tramp  of  hundreds  of  feet  pass- 
ing his  open  window,  rain  or  shine,  hot  or  cold, 
on  their  way  to  six  o'clock  Mass.  "The  Catholic 
Church,"  he  said,  "is  the  only  Church  that  can 
make  people  do  that.  I  acknowledge  the  sacri- 
fice of  my  Sunday  morning's  sleep  is  too  much  to 
ask  of  me.  The  fact  that  the  Catholic  Church 
asks  it  of  her  children  and  gets  it,  is  a  testimony 
to  her  that  I  cannot  ignore."  Now  this  was  a 
very  little  thing,  but,  as  I  said  to  you  before,  it  is 
the  little  things  that  count. 

To  live  a  good  example  is  to  do  a  double  good. 
It  is  to  bless  yourself  and  to  bless  others.  The 
real  preachers  of  religion  are  not  those  who  de- 
liver sermons,  but  the  people  who  go  out  and 
preach  the  same  sermons  by  their  daily  lives. 
Every  time  I  preach  I  feel  very  humble  when  I 
look  at  the  congregation;  for  there  is  a  certain 
exhilaration  to  preaching,  a  sort  of  a  glow  that 


.  RELIGION  33 

makes  one  feel  he  is  accomplishing  something. 
But  the  faces  of  the  people  looking  up  at  me, 
devotion  written  on  them,  bring  the  humility  to 
me  at  once ;  for  these  are  the  people.  Jack,  who 
are  going  to  carry  the  gospel  in  its  lessons  out 
into  the  great  wide  world,  and  make  it  practical. 
These  are  the  people  who  are  going  to  use  the 
lessons  for  the  good  of  the  world.  It  is  through 
these  people  that  the  gospel  will  regenerate  the 
world.  After  all,  the  last  word  is  not  with  me, 
the  priest ;  it  is  with  you,  the  layman. 

Of  course,  you  know  that  before  a  priest  is 
ordained  he  must  make  a  retreat ;  in  other  words, 
he  must  give  a  period  of  time  to  meditation  upon 
his  responsibilities  and  his  duties.  I  often  think 
that  retreats  for  laymen,  especially  for  young 
laymen,  are  more  necessary  than  for  priests.  If 
you  could  understand  what  depends  upon  laymen, 
not  only  for  eternity  but  also  for  time !  If  lay- 
men could  only  for  a  little  while  brush  aside  the 
veil  the  world  draws  before  their  eyes,  and  see 
unclouded  the  opportunities  lying  ahead  of  them ! 
I  am  sad  to-day  as  I  write  this  letter,  for  I  am 
snatching  minutes  to  read  that  story  of  Mexico's 
tragic  hour,  to  which  I  have  already  referred. 
It  is  the  story  of  a  nation  whose  leaders  forgot 
God,  whose  great  men  thought  they  no  longer 
needed  Him,  who  believed  that  religion  was  for 
women  and  that  men  were  too  strong  for  it.  And 


34  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

behold,  the  star  of  their  country's  destiny  is 
drowned  in  an  ocean  of  blood.  It  will  be  the  same 
with  us,  Jack,  if  those  who  are  just  reaching  their 
majority  loose  the  grip  that  faith  has  on  them. 
Some  old  emperor  said:  "If  justice  should  be 
driven  from  the  earth,  it  would  find  its  last  ref- 
uge in  the  hearts  of  kings."  He  was  mistaken. 
Its  last  refuge  will  be  where  it  should  be,  in  the 
hearts  of  the  faithful  poor.  But  I  am  not  mis- 
taken when  I  say  to  you,  that  if  religion  is  ever 
driven  out  of  our  country,  its  last  hope  and  its 
strongest  hope  must  be  in  the  hearts  of  Catholic 
men.  When  Catholic  manhood  loses  religion  the 
nation  is  irretrievably  lost. 

You  will  find  that  youth  is  inclined  to  scoff  in 
these  days.  Very  qften  you  will  find  that  you 
must  cultivate  your  will  by  resisting  with  it  the 
thought  of  scoffing,  for  you  cannot  always  avoid 
the  companionship  of  the  foolish.  If  you  had  a 
"pearl  of  great  price"  you  would  treasure  it  be- 
yond measure.  You  have  a  stone  more  precious 
than  pearls  in  the  faith  that  was  handed  down  to 
you.  Guard  it  for  what  it  is  worth,  and  that 
means — guard  it  above  every  other  possession. 
It  has  more  to  do  with  that  vaguely  defined  suc- 
cess than  you  dream  of ;  for  success  is  not  what 
men  think  it  is,  but  what  God  thinks  it  is. 

Eeligion,  and  the  keeping  of  it  in  life,  is  the 
simplest  of  all  life's  processes.  It  means  only 


RELIGION  35 

fidelity  to  the  little  things ;  the  doing  well  of  what 
is  not  very  hard  to  do,  and  what  takes  so  little 
time  to  do  properly ;  the  raising  of  the  heart  to 
God  in  the  midst  of  temptations  if  only  for  an 
instant ;  the  murmur  of  a  secret  prayer  when  no 
one  seems  to  want  to  believe ;  fidelity  to  the  virtue 
of  humility  when  everything  beckons  one  to 
pride.  Out  of  these  little  things  steps  forth  an 
honest  man,  the  noblest  work  of  the  grace  of  God. 


Ill 

LIVING 

WE  go  about  learning  how  to  live  and  begin  at  the 
wrong  end.    We  ought  first  to  learn  how  to  die. 


LIVING 
My  dear  Jack: 

I  saw  a  book  in  your  hands  yesterday  on  "The 
Art  of  Living  Long".  I  understand  that  you  are 
considering  the  idea  of  pushing  its  sale  through 
your  department.  If  you  decide  to  do  so  I  com- 
mend your  judgment.  The  title  will  carry  the 
first  effort  to  success ;  and  the  contents,  through 
which  I  glanced,  will  sustain  it.  Men  like  to  read 
such  books,  for  they  want  to  live  a  long  time. 
They  would  succeed  in  doing  that  if  they  followed 
the  book's  counsels;  which,  in  spite  of  the  fact 
that  they  chiefly  concern  themselves  with  the 
question  of  diet,  yet  get  down  to  the  fundamental 
Christian  rule  for  longevity — self-restraint  and 
sacrifice.  The  monks  taught  the  "Art  of  Living 
Long"  before  Louis  Cornaro  was  born.  But  the 
best  sort  of  a  book  on  the  subject  would  not  bother 
about  diet  at  all.  It  would  be  called,  How  to  Die. 

"The  Imitation  of  Christ"  is,  perhaps,  the 
most  wonderful  and  comforting  of  all  uninspired, 
or  doubtfully  inspired,  books  that  ever  were 
penned.  It  is  comforting  to  the  busy  man  who 
has  learned  to  know  it,  because  it  tells  so  much 
about  the  art  of  living.  But  have  you  not  no- 

39 


40  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

ticed  that  that  part  of  it  is  quite  accidental?  Its 
aims  and  purposes  are  plainly  to  teach  people 
how  to  die. 

The  happiest  folk  I  ever  saw  were  some  clois- 
tered nuns  in  a  small  Quebec  village.  They  fairly 
radiated  happiness,  though  they  were  enclosed, 
by  their  own  free  will,  and  confined  to  their  house 
and  garden.  By  special  permission,  I  was  shown 
their  cells.  They  were  clean,  white  rooms,  with- 
out ornaments  or  pictures.  There  was  always  a 
cot,  one  chair,  a  table  and  a  kneeling  bench.  On 
the  kneeling  bench,  where  the  eye  naturally  fell 
when  dropped  in  prayer,  was  painted  an  ugly 
black  coffin.  I  wondered  for  a  little  while,  until 
I  began  to  understand  that  these  nuns  were 
happy  because,  through  having  learned  the  art  of 
dying,  they  had  learned  the  art  of  living.  They 
worked  with  their  hands,  and  produced  beautiful 
things  which  were  useful  to  the  world ;  but  they 
worked  also  with  their  spiritual  hands,  and  pro- 
duced more  beautiful  things,  useful  to  themselves, 
and  thus  learned  the  art  of  dying.  .Their  great 
business  and  their  greatest  happiness  was  in 
learning  how  to  die. 

When  you  think  about  it,  it  is  not  so  hard  a  les- 
son to  learn,  once  men  try  to  learn  it.  There  is 
a  whole  library  of  good  things  in  one  text  of 
Scripture  which  everybody  knows  but  so  few 
think  about :  * '  Seek  ye  first  the  Kingdom  of  God 


LIVING  41 

and  His  justice  and  all  else  shall  be  added  unto 
you."  This  is  practically  an  admission  that  we 
need  not  go  about  learning  how  to  live.  We  begin 
at  the  wrong  end.  We  ought  first  to  learn  how  to 
die.  If  we  make  the  world  everything,  fight  for 
everything  in  it  and  win,  we  are  only  making  the 
dying  harder.  It  is  not  business  to  do  that.  No 
commercial  man,  when  laying  his  plans,  would 
ignore  an  event  which  he  knows  must  be  faced, 
for  he  is  not  a  fool.  He  foresees,  and  plans  ac- 
cording to  his  foresight;  and  that  explains  his 
success.  But,  strange  to  say,  the  same  man 
ignores  a  greater  and  surer  eventuality,  which 
means,  so  far  as  he  can  see,  the  loss  of  all  that  he 
has  gained,  and  perhaps  his  beginning  all  over 
again  under  conditions  he  has  never  tried  to 
understand. 

Eeligion  is  rejected  by  too  many  business  men, 
men  of  the  type  of  the  age,  because  they  think  it 
is  a  gloomy  thing  and  gives  them  no  information 
about  what  is  to  them  the  great  question — how  to 
live.  In  reality  religion  is  the  one  thing  they 
need,  because  it,  alone,  can  teach  them  the  essen- 
tial lesson  of  living,  by  teaching  them  how  to  die. 


IV 

TEMPTATION 

I  NEVER  knew  anyone  who  had  "  humanly  rea- 
soned "  himself  off  the  path  of  evil;  or  who  had 
really  overcome  dangerous  temptations,  merely 
because  they  interfered  with  his  temporal  success. 


TEMPTATION 
My  dear  Jack: 

I  never  knew  anyone  who  had  "  humanly  rea- 
soned" himself  off  the  path  of  evil;  or  who  had 
really  overcome  dangerous  temptations,  merely 
because  they  interfered  with  his  temporal  suc- 
cess. I  have  heard  doctors  lecture  to  young  men 
on  the  horrible  consequences  of  a  life  spent  in 
yielding  to  lust  or  gluttony.  I  have  known  young 
men  to  give  up  evil  ways  for  health's  sake,  or 
for  the  sake  of  prosperity ;  but  I  also  knew  that 
they  did  not  entirely  give  them  up.  Those  who 
are  strong  enough  to  be  moderate  for  worldly  rea- 
sons are  wise  enough  to  know  that  moderation 
avoids  nine-tenths  of  the  physical  dangers,  and 
are  willing  enough  to  chance  the  other  tenth. 
There  is  only  one  way  to  face  temptation  with 
any  hope  of  success  against  it;  and  that  is  the 
Christian  way.  Let  me  explain  it. 

There  is  a  great  palace  which  is  called  Life 
and,  by  the  grace  of  God,  we  are  all  in  it  as  resi- 
dents. The  King  dwells  in  the  palace,  but  our 
corporal  eyes  never  see  Him.  We  only  know 
that  He  is  under  the  same  roof  with  us.  You 
have  entered  houses  that  spoke  most  eloquently 

,  45 


46  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

of  their  owners,  though  you  did  not  see  the  own- 
ers at  all.  Something  about  the  rooms,  the  fur- 
nishings, the  books,  the  pictures,  the  order  or  the 
disorder,  told  you  the  owner  had  left  himself 
there  even  when  absent  in  body.  In  this  great 
palace  you  see  and  note  the  same  thing,  only  the 
wonder  of  its  Owner's  power  to  be  there  and  yet 
not  be  seen  is  infinitely  greater.  He  permeates 
everything  about  you  with  His  unseen  presence. 
He  vivifies  and  beautifies  and  inspires,  till  you 
ask  yourself, "  What  am  I  here  for  ?"  and  receive 
the  answer  before  it  is  corroborated  by  your  fel- 
low-residents. You  are  in  the  palace  to  serve  the 
King.  You  have  no  other  purpose  in  it ;  but  by 
this  service  you  are  made  happy  and  contented. 
You  do  not  think  of  pay,  yet  you  know  that  your 
pay  will  be  dealt  out  to  you  with  lavish  generosity. 
In  gardens  around  the  palace  multitudes  play 
constantly,  but  stop  often  to  weep  and  gaze  tipon 
the  buildings.  The  gardens  are  splendid;  but 
you  know  that  the  fruits  are  beautiful  only  to 
the  sight — at  a  touch  they  fall  to  ashes.  The 
flowers  have  beauty,  too,  but  no  perfume.  The 
multitude  calls  to  you  from  the  ground,  as  you 
now  and  then  look  out  of  the  windows.  They 
ask  you  to  come  out  and  pluck  the  fruit  and 
stroll  amongst  the  odorless  flowers;  and  some- 
times you  long  to  go.  They  call  to  you  that  you 
have  a  duty  of  mercy  or  charity  to  come.  You 


TEMPTATION  47 

shut  out  the  thought  of  the  Presence  sometimes 
and  go. 

But  your  place  is  in  the  King's  service.  His 
call  may  come  at  any  time,  and  woe  to  you  if  then 
you  are  absent;  for  the  door  may  be  closed 
against  you,  and  your  strength,  which  comes  from 
the  Presence,  will  be  too  much  weakened  to  en- 
able you  to  enter  again. 

It  is  better  for  you  to  keep  within  and  to  call 
those  outside  to  come  to  you;  for  any  of  that 
great  multitude  may  enter  and  join  you.  If  they 
do  come  there  is  great  rejoicing  in  the  palace,  and 
a  deep  peace  and  satisfaction  in  your  heart  for 
the  gaining  of  other  servants  for  the  King. 

There  are  things  in  the  palace,  inanimate  and 
animate,  that  you  may  use  for  your  comfort,  your 
convenience  and  your  pleasure.  There  are  things 
in  the  gardens  below,  or  in  the  distance,  upon 
which  you  may  feast  your  eyes  to  satiety.  But 
you  know  that  all  these  things  serve  but  one  pur- 
pose— to  help  you  serve  the  King  better.  Shall 
you  use  them  ?  Yes,  as  far  as  they  promote  good 
service.  No,  as  far  as  they  take  you  from  that 
service.  To  use  these  things  as  far  as  they  pro- 
mote the  service  you  are  to  render  the  King,  is 
wise  and  good.  To  use  them  when  they  hinder,  is 
to  succumb  to  temptation  and  fall  from  grace; 
then  the  Presence  seems  to  be  less  felt,  and  you 
languish  in  your  vigilance  for  the  King's  call. 


48  ,       LETTERS  TO  JACK 

I  have  never  known,  my  dear  Jack,  a  better 
way  " to  avoid  evil  and  do  good"  than  to  keep  this 
picture  before  my  mind.  Father  Diertens  sums 
it  up  splendidly:  "  All  other  things  on  the  face  of 
the  earth  are  created  for  man  and  that  they  may 
help  him  in  the  end  for  which  he  was  created. 
From  this  it  follows  that  man  is  to  use  them  as 
much  as  they  help  him  to  his  end,  and  ought  to 
rid  himself  of  them  as  far  as  they  hinder  him 
as  to  it." 

There  you  are.  To  overcome  temptations,  re- 
member the  palace  and  the  Presence,  the  win- 
dows looking  out  on  the  fruit  that  is  ashes  and 
the  flowers  without  perfume,  the  voices  that  call, 
the  doors  that  can  be  opened  only  by  spiritual 
strength,  the  service  that  you  must  give,  and  the 
call  that  will  surely  come  to  the  Chamber  of  the 
King.  Learn  that  all  things  about  you  are  yours, 
and  feel  your  freedom  to  use  them ;  but  ask  your 
soul  the  question,  "  Are  they  going  to  promote  my 
efficiency  as  a  servant  of  God,  or  hinder  it?" 

This,  with  humility,  is  the  best  means  of  over- 
coming temptations. 


V 
THINKING 

MEDITATION  in  its  best  form  is  like  talking  to  God 
with  the  tongue  of  the  spirit  and  hearing  Him 
answer  with  the  ears  of  the  soul. 


BRING  thought  to  your  problems  and  see  them 
vanish. 


As  serious  men  become  older  they  grow  to  dislike 
crowds. 


THINKING 
My  dear  Jack: 

You  have  heard  me  speak  before,  in  an  in- 
cidental way,  of  meditation ;  and  you  knew  that 
it  referred  to  some  exercise  of  piety  common  to 
priests.  I  do  not  think  you  know  much  more 
than  that  about  it.  It  is  an  exercise  which, 
however,  is  known  to  others  besides  priests; 
and  happy  is  the  man  or  woman  who  not  only 
knows  of  it,  but  practices  it  daily.  Meditation 
is  simply  prayer  without  words,  prayer  of  the 
soul  and  mind  and  heart.  In  its  best  form  it  is 
like  talking  to  God  with  the  tongue  of  the  spirit, 
and  hearing  Him  answer  with  the  ears  of  the 
soul.  It  is  spiritual  training.  It  is  filled  with  con- 
solations unknown  to  those  who  never  practice 
it.  At  its  poorest  it  is  the  highest  form  of  prayer, 
but  at  its  best  it  is  a  foretaste  of  heaven's  joy. 
To  those  who  try  it,  even  in  the  crudest  way, 
it  is  full  of  rewards.  To  those  who  let-themselves 
be  led  by  its  beauties,  it  has  ended  in  visions  that 
themselves  are  only  the  beginnings  of  visions. 
No,  I  am  not  in  the  clouds.  The  best  thing  about 
meditation  is  that,  while  it  sends  the  soul  ex- 
ploring the  heavens,  those  who  feed  on  it  are  the 

51 


52  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

sanest  and  most  sensible  of  men.  My  follies  are 
at  their  greatest  when  I  neglect  my  meditation. 

'Now,  meditation  has  not  only  a  spiritual  and 
religious  lesson  to  teach,  but  a  worldly  one  as 
well.  The  way  to  goodness  is  through  the  flower- 
bordered  path  of  meditation.  The  way  to  worldly 
success  is  through  the  pleasant  path  of  thought. 
Bring  thought  to  your  problems  and  see  them 
vanish. 

The  greatest  evil  of  the  age,  my  dear  Jack, 
is  thoughtlessness.  I  could  almost  say  that  we 
live  in  an  age  when  nobody  thinks.  We  seem  to 
be  too  busy  to  think ;  but  he  who  is  too  busy  to 
think  is  too  thoughtless  to  succeed.  Let  me  bring 
the  point  home  to  you.  Every  day  you  are  at 
your  desk  from  early  morning  till  evening.  After 
the  evening  meal  you  want  pleasure,  or  think  you 
do.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  you  only  need  relaxa- 
tion. Play  rests  the  mind  by  changing  the  cur- 
rent of  thought,  not  by  stopping  it.  Too  much 
play,  however,  does  stop  it.  If  you  merely  work 
and  play  you  will  get  nowhere.  Some  sailors  do 
that ;  but  those  who  ambition  to  become  masters, 
do  not.  There  must  be  someone  on  every  ship  to 
think  out  the  problems  of  the  voyage.  The  sailor 
who  learns  to  work,  play  and  think  is  the  sailor 
who,  later  on,  will  command.  Every  young  man 
is  a  young  captain  of  his  fortunes.  He  is  either 
going  to  bring  his  boat  safely  into  port  laden 


THINKING  53 

with  a  precious  cargo,  or  he  is  going  to  pile  it 
up  on  the  rocks.  Cargoes  may  vary,  but  a  real 
cargo  and  a  real  port  mean  success.  Every  day 
of  the  voyage  is  a  day  that  has  its  problems.  So 
every  day  should  have  one  bit  of  it  given  up  to 
the  solving  of  them — to  thought. 

Do  I  mean  that  every  young  man  should  de- 
liberately sit  down  every  day  and  do  nothing? 
No.  I  mean  that  every  young  man  should  de- 
liberately sit  down  every  day  and  think.  If  he 
really  is  interested  in  his  work  he  will  not  find 
it  difficult  to  think  for,  say,  a  half  hour.  If  he  is 
not  interested  in  his  work  he  should  still  think 
and  plan — and  get  interested;  for  that  is  just 
what  his  thinking  and  planning  will  do  for  him. 

Harriman  had  his  railroad  kingdom  in  his 
thoughts  long  before  he  got  the  Union  Pacific, 
the  key  to  his  greatness.  Pullman  was  carry- 
ing thousands  in  his  sleepers,  long  before  he 
could  sleep  himself,  with  the  assurance  that 
many  men  were  working  out  his  small  problems. 
Rockefeller  now,  in  his  old  age,  may  play  golf 
all  day,  but  only  because  he  never  played  in  the 
time  set  aside  for  thinking  and  planning,  when 
he  was  young.  If  you  want  examples,  you  can 
have  them  in  plenty ;  but  there  is  the  Great  Ex- 
ample, for  the  whole  of  creation  was  but  the 
thought  of  God,  supplemented  by  the  Word  of 
Power.  Your  future  is  in  yourself.  Every 


54  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

thoughtful  moment  is  bringing  it  closer  to  you. 
Some  day  it  will  all  be  clear  if  you  are  faithful 
to  thinking  and  planning.  Then  it  is  for  you 
to  imitate  God,  and  speak  the  Word  of  Power 
He  has  placed  in  your  mouth  for  utterance  at 
the  right  time. 

You  cannot  think  if  you  always  use  your  leis- 
ure for  "a  good  time".  The  head  does  not  work 
well  in  concert  with  the  feet,  so  you  cannot  think 
and  dance  together.  Company  is  not  an  aid  to 
thought,  but  solitude  is.  Your  room  ought  to  be 
more  than  a  place  in  which  to  sleep.  It  ought 
also  to  be  a  hermit's  cell,  for  at  least  a  little  while 
every  day. 

Do  not  imagine  that  you  lose  the  time  you  give 
to  yourself  alone.  Too  many  young  people  think 
that  they  must  be  in  a  crowd  or  they  are  losing 
something  of  what  they  call  "life".  They  are 
really  losing  all  that  is  worth  while  in  life  when 
they  are  in  a  crowd.  The  only  inspiration  that 
is  in  a  crowd  is  for  an  orator,  but  then  it  is  a 
case  of  thought  joining  thought.  A  man  who  lis- 
tens and  drinks  in  a  discourse  is  as  much  alone 
as  if  he  were  locked  in  a  solitary  cell.  The  magic 
touch  of  oratory  is  in  so  moving  people  as  to 
make  them  forget  the  speaker  in  the  thoughts  he 
inspires.  The  magic  of  a  crowd  on  a  speaker  is 
in  the  communication  of  the  sympathy  of  their 
individual  thoughts  with  his  own.  The  only 


THINKING  55 

crowd  worth  getting  into  is  the  crowd  that  lis- 
tens or  prays,  which  sometimes  amounts  to  about 
the  same  thing.  As  serious  men  become  older 
they  grow  to  dislike  crowds.  A  growing  love  for 
being  in  a  crowd  is  not  a  sign  of  perennial  youth. 
It  is  more  often  the  sign  of  a  shallow  mind. 
Sometimes,  alas,  it  is  the  sign  of  a  depraved 
heart. 

Do  not  imagine  that  to  be  alone  with  your 
thoughts  is  really  to  be  lonely.  A  certain  poet 
put  the  case  well  when  he  said :  "Alone,  tut  yet 
not  lonely."  You  can  make  your  thoughts  very 
friendly,  as  well  as  the  pleasantest  of  company ; 
and  the  best  of  it  is  that  such  company  grows 
better  as  you  intensify  your  associations  with  it. 
The  man  who  said  that  he  liked  to  talk  to  him- 
self because  he  "  liked  to  talk  to  a  good  man,  and 
liked  to  hear  a  good  man  talk,"  was  perhaps  try- 
ing to  be  funny,  but,  like  Mr.  Dooley,  he  suc- 
ceeded in  being  a  philosopher.  Thinking  is 
really  talking  to  your  better  self.  You  can  al- 
ways talk  better  and  straighter  to  yourself  than 
to  anyone  else,  because  you  have  more  freedom. 
The  restraints  of  human  respect  are  removed. 
You  are  not  suspicious  of  motives.  You  can  test 
and  weigh  without  fear  or  favor,  and,  if  you 
practice  proper  humility,  without  undue  affec- 
tion. 

The  greatest  poems  never  made  me  love  them 


56  LETTERS  TO  rJACK 

(and  you  know  how  I  do  love  poetry)  half  as 
much  as  Father  Ryan's  "Song  of  the  Mystic", 
which  begins : 

"I  walk  down  the  valley  of  Silence, 
Down  the  dim,  voiceless  Valley — alone." 

This  verse  of  it  keeps  coming  back  to  me  as  I 
write : 

" And  I  have  had  thoughts  in  the  valley, 
Ah  me,  how  my  spirit  was  stirred! 
And  they  wear  holy  veils  on  their  faces, 
Their  footsteps  can  scarcely  be  heard. 
They  float  down  the  Valley  like  virgins, 
Too  pure  for  the  touch  of  a  word." 

Of  course,  again  all  my  hopes  for  writing  a 
real  practical  business  letter  have  fled  long  ago. 
I  try  and  try  not  to  preach,  and  only  succeed  in 
preaching  the  more.  Well,  perhaps  after  all  it 
is  for  the  best. 


VI 

FRIENDS 

IP  I  were  a  saint,  I  should  be  more  afraid  of  flat- 
tery than  of  anything  else ;  and,  because  I  am  not 
a  saint,  I  ought  to  fear  it  still  more. 


No   friendship    will   stand   the   shock   of   a   sin. 


BE  at  least  as  much  of  a  gentleman  to  your  friend 
as  you  are  to  a  stranger. 


FRIENDS 
My  Dear  Jack: 

All  friends  are  rare;  wise  friends  are  rarer; 
but  foolish  friends  are  worse  than  enemies.  Fer- 
vently do  I  pray:  "From  my  foolish  friends, 
good  Lord,  deliver  me."  It  sounds  a  little  un- 
charitable that  I  should  consider  any  of  my 
friends  foolish,  but  alas,  I  know  that  some  of 
them  are.  The  most  foolish  friend  of  all  is  the 
one  who  thinks  that  he  has  to  overpraise  in  order 
to  do  his  duty  of  friendship.  Listen  to  him  and 
you  will  think  yourself  a  demigod,  but  no  one 
else  will.  Because  he  overstates  his  case,  he 
makes  listeners  doubt  the  actual  truth.  He  drags 
your  name  into  his  conversations  constantly.  He 
basks  in  the  sunlight  of  your  supposed  greatness ; 
but,  in  nine  cases  out  of  ten,  he  thinks  that  in 
this  way  he  makes  a  little  glory  for  himself.  He 
is  not  a  real  friend  of  yours,  but  a  very  real 
friend  of  himself.  You  are  the  steps  of  the  lad- 
der upon  which  he  hopes  to  mount.  One  would 
not  mind  it,  but  that  he  insists  on  scraping  the 
steps  with  his  rough,  hob-nailed  shoes  as  he 
climbs,  and  that  hurts.  You  must  just  live  down 
this  kind  of  a  friend.  It  is  hard  to  rebuke  him ; 
indeed  often  he  will  not  be  rebuked. 

59 


60  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

Sometimes,  however,  you  find  this  sort  of  a 
friend  absolutely  unselfish.  He  does  not  want 
to  mount  at  your  expense.  He  is  only  an  enthu- 
siast about  you.  He  thinks  he  has  discovered 
virtues  in  you  that  nobody  else  suspects.  He 
looks  on  himself  merely  as  an  humble  admirer; 
but,  though  he  doesn't  know  it,  he  is  really  swing- 
ing incense  to  his  own  astuteness.  The  less  he 
understands  of  that,  the  harder  it  is  to  save  your- 
self from  him,  for  he  sees  no  flaw  in  you.  This 
man  hurts  you  because  he  flatters  you ;  and  flat- 
tery always  hurts.  If  I  were  a  saint,  I  should  be 
more  afraid  of  flattery  than  of  anything  else; 
and  because  I  am  not  a  saint,  I  ought  to  fear 
it  still  more.  It  io  an  insidious  poison,  and  no 
armor  of  righteousness  is  strong  enough  to  make 
you  fearless  of  it.  It  strengthens  your  enemy 
because  it  makes  you  self-satisfied.  It  increases 
your  pride,  which  is  especially  bad.  It  kills  the 
humility  that  is  your  real  strength.  This  kind 
of  a  friend,  while  not  to  be  avoided,  nevertheless 
is  one  to  reason  with.  Do  not  let  him  flatter  you. 
Have  a  heart-to  heart  talk  with  him,  and  own  up 
to  the  truth.  I  knew  two  men  who  passed  as 
friends  so  well  that  I  had  come  to  call  them 
Damon  and  Pythias.  Pythias  seemed  always  lost 
in  admiration  for  Damon.  One  day  I  met  them 
together,  but  Damon  was  hopelessly  drunk.  Now 
both  of  these  men  were  parishioners  of  mine,  and 


FRIENDS  61 

I  thought  it  was  time  for  me  to  act.  I  called 
Damon  aside  and  reproached  him,  adding  to  my 
scolding:  "I  never  saw  you  in  this  condition 
before."  He  had  sense  enough  to  answer,  wisely 
enough:  "Yes,  I  am  drunk  and  I  know  it;  and 
more  than  that,  Father,  I  am  glad  of  it.  That 
pest  of  a  friend  will  now  know  that  I  am  only  a 
human  being."  I  always  suspected  that  Damon 
played  drunk  that  day  for  a  purpose. 

The  real  friend  is  the  man  who  knows  all  about 
you  and  loves  vou  in  spite  of  it.  I  am  sure  some 
one  must  have  said  that  before;  but  I  do  not 
know  who  it  was  or  I  would  give  him  credit  for 
it.  Friendship  is  really  founded  on  generosity. 
I  am  not  a  believer  in  the  intimate  "friendships" 
between  men  and  women  that  are  often  called 
"platonic  love."  If  such  intimacies  are  platonic 
they  may  not  be  classed  as  love ;  and  if  they  may, 
why  the  adjective?  I  believe  that  friendships 
between  men  and  women  are  almost  always  lack- 
ing in  the  essential  of  equality;  for  women  are 
governed  more  by  the  heart  than  are  men,  and  in 
friendship,  therefore,  are  far  more  generous. 
Friendship  will  not,  as  a  rule,  stand  the  strain 
of  great  inequality.  "Platonic  love"  either  be- 
comes real  love,  or  ends  in  a  break.  The  truest 
friendships  are  between  persons  of  the  same  sex  ; 
and  there  is  nothing  of  what  is  usually  called 
' '  love ' '  in  them.  The  man  who  knows  your  faults 


62  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

and  is  still  your  friend  overlooks  a  lot  of 
defects.  He,  therefore,  is  generous;  but,  at  the 
same  time,  he  is  humble,  because  he  is  thus  con- 
fessing, in  his  own  way,  that  he  has  some  defects 
to  be  overlooked  on  your  part.  Do  not  conceal 
your  defects  from  your  friend.  When  you  talk 
to  him  do  not  boast.  Minimize  your  virtues ;  but 
it  is  not  wise  to  emphasize  your  faults  too  much. 
Let  your  friend  know  that  you  have  faults.  It 
makes  the  bond  of  union  closer.  The  fellow  who 
is  always  striking  his  breast  is  not  safe,  because 
he  is  not  sincere.  The  publican  in  the  parable 
only  struck  his  breast  and  confessed  his  sins  in 
the  temple.  Had  he  gone  out  and  proclaimed 
them,  he  would  have  been  as  bad  as  the  pharisee, 
though  in  another  way.  You  may  confess  faults 
in  the  temple  of  friendship :  but  remember,  that 
to  be  always  disparaging  yourself  is  to  be  seek- 
ing praise.  To  get  down  to  the  level  of  knowl- 
edge with  your  friend,  and  then  find  equality,  is 
a  pretty  good  way  to  make  a  friendship  last. 

On  general  principles  it  can  be  asserted  that 
there  is  no  possibility  of  friendship  between  a 
superior  and  an  inferior — between  one  who  rules 
and  one  who  is  under  his  jurisdiction.  A  su- 
perior who  has  friends  amongst  his  "subjects" 
is  running  the  risk  of  violating  justice  toward 
those  not  thus  honored.  The  nearest  approach 
to  friendship  of  that  kind,  so  far  as  the  superior 


FRIENDS  63 

is  concerned,  must  be  admiration  and  apprecia- 
tion. When  an  inferior  has  what  people  call 
friendship  for  his  superior,  it  is  usually  devo- 
tion ;  and  it  ought  to  be  absolutely  unselfish  to  be 
worth  anything.  The  day  may  come  when  equal- 
ity will  raise  this  devotion  to  the  plane  of  real 
friendship ;  but,  until  it  does,  the  devotion  ought 
to  be  whole-hearted,  and  rather  for  what  the  su- 
perior represents  than  for  himself.  Such  devo- 
tion ought  to  ask  nothing ;  for  if  it  demands  spe- 
cial consideration  it  loses  its  virtue  and  is,  there- 
fore, in  danger  of  losing  its  utility.  The  best  way 
to  consider  superiors  is  by  thinking  of  them  as 
not  detached  from  their  offices.  He  is  a  happy 
superior  who  makes  those  under  him  have  re- 
gard and  devotion  for  what  he  represents.  Per- 
sonal friendships  between  superiors  and  those 
they  govern  provoke  jealousies  and  misunder- 
standings; and  so,  in  general,  do  not  work  out 
for  good. 

Get  it  firmly  fixed  in  your  mind,  Jack,  that 
friendship  never  demands  v  anything  that  is 
wrong.  No  friendship  will  stand  the  shock  of 
a  sin.  The  friend  who  asks  you  to  lie  for  him, 
or  to  do  some  other  wrong  act  for  him,  or  to 
place  your  own  position  in  jeopardy  for  him,  is 
nothing  more  than  a  supposed  friend.  A  busi- 
ness man  in  Detroit  has  a  motto  stuck  over  his 
desk  that  is  more  to  be  praised  for  its  truth  than 


64  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

its  eloquence:  "That  which  takes  gall  to  ask, 
takes  no  gall  to  refuse."  The  man  who  places 
before  you  the  suggestion,  that  because  he  is  in 
trouble  your  friendship  for  him  must  be  tested 
by  the  sacrifice  of  your  honesty,  ought  to  be  put 
out  of  your  life  at  once.  If  he  is  a  true  friend, 
he  will  admire  the  good  in  you  and  he  will  not 
attempt  to  destroy  it.  He  should  be  willing  to 
cut  off  his  right  hand  rather  than  ask  you  to  do 
wrong;  and  yet  the  whole  business  world  of  to- 
day is  full  of  men  who  think  that  they  have  a 
right  to  demand,  in  the  name  of  friendship, 
things  that  sully  the  soul.  In  the  world  of  poli- 
tics this  is  especially  true;  and  it  is  because  of 
that  fact  that  there  are  really  no  political  friends ; 
or  rather  that  a  political  friend  is  no  friend  at 
all.  The  man  who  happens  to  be  a  politician  may 
have  a  man's  friendship;  but  political  friend- 
ships are  based  upon  selfishness,  pure  and  sim- 
ple; though  the  adjectives  are  misleading,  for 
selfishness  is  neither  pure  nor  simple.  Selfish- 
ness is  to  the  highest  degree  impure;  and,  far 
from  being  simple,  it  is  as  cunning  as  a  serpent. 
You  may  often  trust  a  politician  in  matters 
other  than  those  that  are  political ;  but  in  politics 
one  should  seldom  trust  him.  You  may  trust  a 
statesman  in  everything  except  statecraft;  but 
the  word  "craft"  has  been  well  applied  in  this 
connection.  A  statesman  is  often  only  a  post- 


FRIENDS  65 

graduate  politician.  An  ecclesiastical  friend  is 
safe  for  your  spiritual  self ;  but  he  is  hard  for  a 
worldly  man  to  understand.  If  he  is  worth  any- 
thing to  you  it  is  because  his  motto  is :  "  All  for 
the  greater  glory  of  God."  Unless  you  have  that 
motto  yourself,  you  cannot  understand  the  eccle- 
siastical point  of  view.  The  things  that  you  be- 
lieve are  necessary  the  ecclesiastic  very  often  puts 
down  as  " vanity  and  affliction  of  spirit".  He  is 
a  safeguard,  but  unless  he  has  many  worldly 
faults,  he  is  not  capable  of  the  friendship  that  a 
man  of  the  world  demands.  He  is  too  unbending. 
Friendships  between  the  clergy  and  the  laity  are 
usually  very  imperfect,  and  are  not  particularly 
to  be  encouraged.  Though  you  have  one  priest  in 
your  family,  with  a  possibility  of  having  more, 
yet,  as  a  priest,  I  would  not  encourage  you  to 
form  friendships  with  other  priests.  Their  duty 
toward  you  is  in  the  way  of  guidance  and  direc- 
tion. Your  duty  toward  them  is  implied  in  the 
definition  of  their  duty  toward  you.  The  founda- 
tion of  equality  is  lacking  in  the  friendship  of  a 
layman  and  a  priest ;  and  hence  such  friendships 
very  often  are  failures.  The  best  way  to  deal 
with  a  priest  is  to  appeal  to  the  father  in  him. 
Do  not  then  seek  friends;  because  in  seeking 
you  rarely  find  them.  You  want  them  too  badly, 
and  in  your  eagerness  you  may  buy  shoddy  in- 
stead of  good  cloth.  Wait  until  they  come  into 


66  .LETTERS  TO  JACK 

your  life  unasked,  and  then  consider  well  before 
you  surrender.  Look  first  for  unselfishness ;  but 
find  out  there  and  then  if  you  are  yourself  capa- 
ble of  it ;  for  you  are  an  equal  partner  in  friend- 
ship. You  cannot  expect  what  you  cannot  give. 
Study  every  possible  friend  as  if  he  were  a  pos- 
sible enemy.  See  that  he  is  as  near  your  equal 
as  he  may  be ;  but  try  to  think  of  him  always  as 
just  a  little  superior  to  yourself.  Be  open  and 
honest  with  him.  Let  him  be  open  and  honest 
with  you.  Never  praise  him  to  his  face,  and 
do  not  praise  him  unduly  behind  his  back. 
If  he  has  faults — and  he  surely  has  them — 
show  them  to  him  by  calling  attention  to 
the  sapie  possible  defects  in  your  own  charac- 
ter. He  will  see  the  point.  Lean  on  him  in 
your  little  weaknesses,  but  do  not  put  your  heavy 
burdens  upon  his  shoulders.  To  lean  lightly  is 
to  make  him  happy  that  you  come  to  him  in  your 
troubles ;  but  to  throw  on  him  the  heavy  burdens 
that  you  should  carry  yourself,  is  to  prove  your 
own  selfishness.  Be  at  least  as  much  of  a  gen- 
tleman to  your  friend  as  you  are  to  a  stranger. 
He  has  greater  claims  on  you  than  any  stranger. 
Ask  nothing  of  him  that  you  would  not  want  him 
to  ask  of  you;  and  thus  you  shall  keep  your 
friend,  and  in  his  friendship  you  shall  find  a 
great  deal  to  help  and  sustain  you. 


VII 
ENEMIES 

THE  way  to  change  into  friends  the  enemies  who 
misunderstand,  is  to  find  out  the  way  to  tell 
them  the  truth;  and  one  doesn't  lose  the  time 
taken  in  scheming  to  that  end. 


ENMITY  at  bottom  is  a  sin;  and  the  only  thing 
with  which  a  sin  can  be  successfully  opposed  is 
the  opposite  virtue. 


CHERISH  your  enemies. 


ENEMIES 
My  dear  Jack: 

I  have  noticed  that  you  are  inclined  to  be  popu- 
lar. The  people  you  meet  in  my  house  like  you. 
The  people  who  have  met  you  in  the  office  say  nice 
things  about  you.  If  I  reach  for  my  coat  when 
you  are  around,  you  jump  up  to  hold  it  for  me. 
That  isn't  particularly  complimentary  to  me,  for 
I  am  not  so  very  old,  nor  have  I  been  accustomed 
to  a  valet  around  to  make  me  think  myself  a 
petted  child  of  fortune.  But  let  that  go.  You 
have  acquired  a  good  habit  in  always  trying  to 
help  other  people.  It  is  inevitable  that,  under 
such  a  system,  you  are  bound  to  be  popular ;  but 
I  would  not  have  you  close  your  eyes  to  the  fact 
that,  with  popularity,  you  are  also  going  to  accu- 
mulate a  few  enemies.  While  great  popularity 
reduces  the  number  of  our  enemies,  it  surely 
makes  very  bitter  ones ;  for  it  appears  to  be  half 
a  law  that  the  hands  which  stretch  up  from  imme- 
diately beneath  the  pinnacle  of  success,  are  hands 
reaching  for  feet  to  pull  down.  You  will  have 
your  enemies ;  you  may  have  incipient  ones  now. 
It  is  wise  to  begin  already  to  think  how  you  are 
to  treat  them. 


70  LETTERS  TO  rJACK 

I  had  a  chat  once  with  a  statesman  possessing 
more  enemies  to  the  square  inch  than  any  other 
man  I  ever  knew.  He  had  just  passed  through  a 
terrible  ordeal  and  his  enemies  had  almost  beaten 
him.  Amongst  other  things  he  said:  " Revenge 
is  not  worth  while.  Your  whole  life  is  a  proces- 
sion from  birth  to  death,  and  the  procession  is  a 
race.  If  somebody  hurts  you,  you  cannot  afford 
to  stop  and  wait  for  him  to  come  around  to  strike 
back  at  him.  If  you  do  that  the  procession  will 
have  gone  on  while  you  are  waiting,  and  you  will 
be  just  that  much  behind."  I  was  so  interested 
in  the  views  of  this  man  that  I  watched  his  career. 
No  one  ever  suffered  so  much  from  enemies ;  but 
I  never  saw  him  try  to  strike  back.  A  friend  once 
said  of  him:  "Why,  the  fool,  he  would  compro- 
mise with  his  worst  enemy."  I  would  not  have 
put  it  that  way;  I  would  have  substituted  "wise 
man"  for  "fool".  An  enemy  who  can  be  concil- 
iated hasn't  any  excuse  for  existing.  Richelieu 
said  that  statesmanship  is  to  make  friends  out  of 
enemies ;  and  Richelieu  was  right.  Nine-tenths 
of  my  own  enemies  are  people  who  misunder- 
stood, and  thought  that  their  enmity  was  for  my 
good.  Nearly  all  of  the  other  tenth  were  people 
who,  while  they  did  not  misunderstand,  never- 
theless in  a  vague  sort  of  way  thought  I  had  in- 
jured them.  All  of  them  were  wrong.  I  never 
tried  willfully  to  injure  anybody  in  my  life ;  but, 


ENEMIES  71 

nevertheless,  I  may  have  been  at  fault,  for  some- 
times a  man  doesn't  know  when  he  is  doing  harm 
to  another.  The  way  to  change  into  friends  the 
enemies  who  misunderstand,  is  to  find  out  the  way 
to  tell  them  the  truth,  and  one  doesn't  lose  the 
time  taken  in  scheming  to  that  end.  The  way 
to  change  into  friends  enemies  who  think  they 
have  been  injured,  is  not  by  building  up  a  case 
for  yourself  and  remaining  self -righteously  stub- 
born; it  is  to  take  it  for  granted  that  you  are 
wrong,  whether  you  are  or  not.  There  is  no  bet- 
ter way  of  making  an  enemy  realize  that  you  are 
right. 

I  can  truthfully  say,  Jack,  that  if  I  have  any 
enemies  today,  and  doubtless  I  have,  they  are 
enemies  I  never  met,  or  of  whom  I  am  blissfully 
ignorant.  The  people  I  might  know  later  on 
as  enemies  will  never  find  out  from  my  conduct 
toward  them  that  I  acknowledge  or  notice  their 
enmity.  The  best  rule  of  life  that  I  find  for 
such  situations  is  to  ignore  the  fact  that  anyone 
dislikes  you. 

Of  course,  sometimes  this  conduct  does  not 
seem  to  work  out  well,  for  a  man  who  hates  you 
sometimes  will  hate  through  everything.  But 
what  difference  does  it  make,  except  that  of 
momentary  annoyance?  The  thing  is  to  be  at 
peace  yourself,  and  you  cannot  be  at  peace  with 
yourself  if  you  must  add,  to  the  ordinary  wor- 


72  LETTERS  TO  'JACK 

ries  of  life,  the  extraordinary  ones  of  plotting 
and  planning  how  to  circumvent  an  enemy. 
There  is  really  only  one  way  to  circumvent  him 
— the  scriptural  way  of  heaping  coals  of  fire  on 
his  head.  Enmity  at  bottom  is  a  sin,  and  the  only 
thing  with  which  a  sin  can  be  successfully  op- 
posed is  the  opposite  virtue. 

A  harder  situation  arises  when  you  find  a  man 
dislikes  you  as  a  matter  of  duty.  We  all  have 
superiors,  and  it  is  the  superior's  business  to 
know  those  who  are  under  his  jurisdiction.  He 
rarely  gets  his  knowledge  direct,  for  he  has  to 
depend  upon  others ;  and  out  of  a  multiplicity 
of  opinions  expressed  to  him,  he  draws  his  con- 
clusions, sometimes  unconsciously.  As  he  has 
power,  these  conclusions  often  work  out  to  your 
undoing.  The  superior  may  think  that  he  is 
eminently  just,  whereas  he  is  disgracefully  un- 
just. He  may  want  to  do  right,  but  succeeds  only 
in  doing  wrong.  He  may  not  consider  the  fact 
that  no  man  looks  upon  his  neighbor  as  quite  per- 
fect, and  that  most  of  us,  alas,  will  talk  about 
imperfections  rather  than  perfections.  How  are 
you  going  to  handle  such  a  case  as  that?  The 
first  rule,  of  course,  is  to  see  that  your  own  con- 
duct squares  with  integrity  and  honesty,  so  that, 
if  the  charges  are  made  against  you  openly,  you 
may  prove  your  innocence.  That's  what  might 
be  called  preparation  for  the  break,  but  with  that 


ENEMIES  73 

preparation  the  open  break  is  often  averted.  It 
is  an  uncomfortable  feeling,  that  of  being  obliged 
to  work  under  the  power  of  a  superior  who  sus- 
pects you  and  your  motives,  who  is  an  enemy  of 
the  worst  kind  because  an  enemy  through  what 
he  considers  his  duty.  The  rule  to  follow  then 
is :  never  betray  yourself  into  a  resentment  be- 
fore him  or  before  others.  Never  criticise  him 
or  his  actions.  Never  show  pique  because  he  does 
not  like  you.  Praise  him  whenever  you  can; 
and,  by  the  way,  it  will  be  easy  to  pick  out  things 
in  the  life  of  that  sort  of  a  man  to  praise,  for  he 
is  usually  honest.  Help  him  even  more  cheer- 
fully than  you  help  anyone  else.  Rise  to  every 
occasion  that  he  puts  in  your  way ;  but,  above  all 
else,  even  if  you  have  the  power,  do  not  try  to 
injure  him.  You  will  be  tempted  to  do  so.  The 
devil  will  put  it  into  your  power  sometime  to  do 
so.  The  time  may  come  when  he  is  caught,  and 
when  a  word  from  you  may  ruin  him ;  but  that 
is  the  day  of  your  trial,  not  Ms;  that  is  the  day 
your  mettle  is  being  tested ;  that  is  the  great  oc- 
casion that  God  gives  you  for  growth.  Right 
there  you  have  the  chance  to  be  a  big  man  or  a 
little  man,  to  be  a  success  before  God  or  merely 
a  human  so-called  success.  You  are  there  before 
the  caskets,  of  which  there  are  but  two:  one 
moth-eaten,  cobweb-covered  and  ugly,  because  so 
few  people  ever  touch  it;  the  other  gilded  and 


74  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

jeweled,  cleaned  and  garnished,  because  it  is  pop- 
ular. But  in  that  last  casket  there  is  only  re- 
proach and  regret :  while  in  the  other  is  the  prize 
of  self-conquest,  that  admits  you  at  once  into 
the  outer  circle  surrounding  the  Kingdom  of 
Heaven. 

The  worst  kind  of  enemy,  the  one  hardest  to 
deal  with,  is  always  the  man  who  has  already 
wronged  you  by  act  or  thought.  There  is  an  old 
advice  often  given,  and  it  comes  in  very  apropos 
here,  to  the  effect  that  one  should  never  lend 
money  to  a  friend — if  one  values  the  friend.  Of 
course,  like  most  bits  of  worldly  philosophy,  this 
is  not  always  strictly  true ;  but  it  is  true  enough 
to  make  it  a  general  rule  of  conduct.  The  man 
who  has  received  a  benefit  from  you,  very  often 
resents  in  his  heart  the  fact  that  he  was  humil- 
iated by  accepting  it.  At  first  it  is  only  a 
resentment,  but  it  has  a  strange  and  unreason- 
able growth  that  arrives  often  at  hatred.  Every 
time  this  man  does  something  to  actually  injure 
you  the  hatred  increases,  and  grows  on  its  own 
unreason.  There  seems  to  be  no  remedy  for  this 
kind  of  enmity.  New  favors  only  add  fuel  to 
the  flame,  for  they  bring  a  return  of  resentment 
by  giving  hatred  a  fictitious  justification.  Such 
enmity  goes  very  far  to  prove  the  doctrine  of 
total  depravity,  whose  only  remedy  was  and  is 
the  grace  of  God ;  which,  by  the  way,  you  need 


ENEMIES  75 

as  much  in  facing  the  situation  as  your  enemy 
does  in  shaking  off  his  blinders. 

It  takes  your  self -discipline,  and  all  of  it,  to 
stand  up  under  the  feeling  of  rankling  injustice 
that  overflows  your  very  soul,  when  you  become 
conscious  of  this  sort  of  unreasonable  and  ever- 
degrading  enmity.  Always  fall  back  on  the  con- 
sciousness of  eternal  justice  before  the  fact  of 
human  injustice;  and  then  stand  to  your  guns. 
Make  the  unreasonable  enemy  respect  your  firm- 
ness and  the  right  of  your  position.  Do  not  give 
such  a  mari  an  inch.  Demand  from  him  your 
own — all  your  own ;  not  because  you  want  it,  but 
because  you  know  it  is  good  for  him  to  restore  it. 
He  is  entitled  to  no  consideration  from  you ;  but 
just  the  same  have  all  consideration  for  him 
within  the  limits  of  reason,  justice  and  charity. 
Take  no  more  than  is  yours ;  take  that  and — wait. 
When  you  are  through  with  that  sort  of  enemy 
be  through  with  him  forever  and  ever,  so  far  as 
giving  him  a  chance  at  you  again  is  concerned; 
but  do  not  forget  that  he  remains  one  of  a  mul- 
titude for  you,  one  out  of  thousands  for  whom 
you  still  ought  to  have  kindly  feelings,  honest  in- 
tentions, and  overflowing  charity.  Just  forget 
your  trouble  in  all  but  the  experience  you  have 
gotten  out  of  it.  It  will  pass,  but  it  would  never 
pass  if  you  let  it  have  its  evil  way. 

Enemies  have  their  uses,  for  they  make  us 


76  LETTERS  TO  rJACK 

careful.  They  teach  us  how  to  govern  ourselves. 
They  show  us  how  naturally  unreasonable  we 
might  become  if  we  permitted  ourselves  to  go 
wrong.  Cherish  your  enemies,  Jack,  since  you 
must  have  them;  for  a  strong  and  powerful 
enemy  is  often  a  help  up  the  ladder,  spiritually 
as  well  as  temporally. 

To  avoid  making  enemies  one  would  have  to 
avoid  living  at  all.  There  is  another  old  adage 
which  says:  "To  avoid  enemies,  say  nothing,  do 
nothing,  be  nothing. ' '  This  is  unhappily  only  too 
true;  yet  though  we  cannot  avoid  enemies,  the 
wise  man  always  keeps  trying  to  do  so,  and  thus 
cuts  down  their  number  and  their  malignity.  The 
best  rule  to  follow  in  avoiding  the  making  of  ene- 
mies, is  always  to  impute  good  motives  to  the 
acts  of  your  neighbor.  After  all,  we  cannot  read 
hearts;  only  God  can  do  that.  An  old  Scotch 
lady  made  it  a  rule  to  praise  everybody.  She  dis- 
gusted an  uncharitable  neighbor  once  to  the 
point  of  making  him  blurt  out:  "Ye  auld  hag,  I 
think  ye'd  praise  the  deil  himself."  The  old 
lady  was  not  taken  aback,  but  smilingly  an- 
swered: "Aweel,  he  is  a  vera  industrious  body." 
I  would  not  have  you  arrive  at  the  point  where 
you  could  find  something  to  praise  in  the  devil ; 
but,  except  for  the  devil,  you  can  imagine  a  good 
motive  to  nearly  every  act  that  is  not  a  sin.  Even 
that  vou  can  leave  to  God.  There  is  always  an 


ENEMIES  77 

excuse ;  there  is  always  an  explanation ;  there  is 
always  the  chance  of  good  intentions;  there  is 
always  a  weakness;  there  is  always  something 
you  can  pick  up  to  explain.  When  you  do  that, 
you  never  know  how  far  your  words  go.  I  met 
a  certain  man  once,  and  never  thought  of  him 
afterwards  until  he  forced  me  to  do  so.  He  said 
a  nice  thing  about  me  to  some  one  else,  when 
there  really  was  no  call  for  him  to  say  it.  He 
had  no  obligation  toward  me.  I  had  never  done 
him  a  favor.  I  had  merely  shaken  hands  with 
him  once  and  chatted  for  two  or  three  minutes ; 
but  when  the  chance  came  he  went  out  of  his  way 
to  say  the  thing  that  helped  me.  Now,  I  am 
watching  my  opportunity  to  say  good  things 
about  him.  It  is  by  practising  charity  in  thought, 
word  and  deed  that  you  avoid  making  enemies 
and  succeed  in  making  friends. 


VIII 
RULE  AND  SERVICE 

THE  strong  man  is  the  man  who  feels  his  respon- 
sibility and  accepts  it  in  the  spirit  of  humility. 


THE  wisest  ruler  is  he  who  gives  the  fewest  orders 
but  looks  for  the  greatest  results. 


No  man  can  be  just  and  selfish  at  the  same  time. 


RULE  AND  SERVICE 

My  dear  Jack: 

It  has  been  said  that  "no  one  has  learned  how 
to  rule  until  he  has  learned  how  to  serve".  The 
statement  is  quite  true,  quite  smart  and  quite 
catchy ;  but  I  like  to  express  it  in  another  way. 
I  believe  that  no  one  has  learned  how  to  serve 
until  he  has  learned  how  to  rule.  If  you  analyze 
the  two  statements  you  will  find  that  they  really 
amount  to  the  same  thing.  Everybody  is  called 
upon  to  rule,  and  everybody  is  called  upon  to 
serve.  You  do  the  one  only  as  well  as  you  do  the 
other.  When  a  king,  for  example,  ceases  to  serve 
his  people  well,  he  ceases  to  rule  them  well,  and 
vice  versa.  Every  man,  woman  and  child  born 
into  this  world  is  destined  to  rule.  We  are  all 
destined,  for  example,  to  rule  ourselves.  If  we 
fail  in  that,  the  depravity  in  us  gets  the  upper 
hand,  and  there  is  nothing  left  in  life.  Every 
task  you  set  out  to  do  gives  you  the  opportunity 
of  ruling;  and  as  you  rule  you  serve.  There  is 
no  such  thing  as  an  absolute  ruler  in  this  world, 
for  even  the  monarch  most  unlimited  in  his 
powers  is  ruled  by  some  elements  in  the  things 

81 


82  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

that  he  believes  he  is  ruling.  It  is  said  that  the 
Czar  of  Eussia  is  the  most  absolute  of  all  rulers ; 
but  the  Czar  himself  knows  that  there  are  a  thou- 
sand things  he  cannot  do,  and  therefore  that 
there  are  a  thousand  things  and  conditions  that 
rule  him.  If  you  do  well  the  work  that  is  put 
under  your  hands  to  do,  the  work  for  which  you 
are  responsible,  you  are  ruling  much  more  than 
you  are  serving ;  in  fact,  while  you  are  doing  the 
work  you  are  entirely  ruling.  It  is  only  when 
the  work  is  done  and  the  results  are  placed  before 
your  superior  that  you  show  your  service ;  but  it 
is  so  hard  to  mark  the  point  where  rule  ends  and 
service  begins,  that  you  might  truthfully  say  that 
while  you  serve  you  rule,  and  while  you  rule  you 
serve. 

So,  as  I  look  at  it,  the  first  thing  to  learn  is 
the  art  of  ruling  instead  of  the  art  of  serving. 
We  are  made  to  the  image  and  likeness  of  God ; 
and  man  is  given  the  earth  for  his  kingdom.  We 
have,  therefore,  a  higher  appreciation  of  our  dig- 
nity when  we  learn  how  to  rule  rather  than  how 
to  serve;  but  when  the  spiritual  steps  in  and 
shows  us  that  we  really  serve  when  we  rule,  we 
understand  perfectly,  and  thus  strong  men  are 
made.  The  strong  man  is  a  man  who  feels  his 
responsibility  and  accepts  it  in  a  spirit  of  hu- 
mility. Such  a  man  has  the  elements  of  greatness 
in  him  and  will  overcome  every  obstacle  and 


RULE  AND  SERVICE  83 

every  handicap.  Because  serving  is  so  intimately 
bound  up  with  ruling,  I  am  going  to  devote  most 
of  this  letter  to  speaking  of  rulers  rather  than  of 
subjects. 

You  are  now  at  the  head  of  a  very  little  depart- 
ment, and  rather  young  for  even  that  small  re- 
sponsibility. If  you  succeed  in  that  department, 
within  a  short  time  your  responsibilities  will  be 
greater,  and  you  will  have  a  number  of  others 
under  your  charge.  As  soon  as  you  arrive  at  that 
stage,  you  will  face  two  great  obligations:  one 
toward  your  work,  the  other  toward  your  work- 
ers. Since  the  greatness  of  the  work  depends 
upon  the  workers,  I  am  going  to  consider  them 
first.  The  head  of  a  department,  a  superior  of 
any  kind,  is  given  his  place  that  he  may  produce 
results.  The  priest  gets  results  in  souls ;  the  busi- 
ness man  in  money.  Keep  that  idea  before  you 
always  in  your  work.  You  are  there  to  get 
results!  Your  superiors  selected  you  because 
they  thought  you  had  in  you  the  ability  to  obtain 
them.  They  depend  upon  you.  In  your  turn  you 
must  depend  upon  others ;  and  in  their  turn  they 
become,  in  smaller  things,  responsible  parties 
themselves.  Now  the  best  way  to  secure  results 
from  those  under  you  is  to  make  them  feel  that 
they  are  shouldering  part  of  your  burden.  Re- 
sponsibility is  the  most  sobering  /thing  in  the 
world.  A  baby  would  never  be  able  to  walk  if  the 


84  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

mother  always  carried  it  in  her  arms,  or  wheeled 
it  around  in  the  perambulator.  The  mother's 
responsibility  is  to  see  that  the  baby  does  not 
walk  too  soon,  so  that  it  later  will  walk  correctly ; 
but  the  mother  cannot  walk  for  the  baby — that 
the  baby  has  to  do  itself.  Did  you  ever  see  chicks 
come  out  of  their  shells  ?  They  break  out  and  are 
busy  at  once.  It  is  worth  remarking  that  they 
arrive  at  maturity  very  soon.  The  reason  is  be- 
cause they  are  active  early.  When  the  time  has 
come  for  them  to  earn  their  own  living  without 
assistance,  they  have  the  advantage  of  having 
been  doing  it  partially  from  the  very  beginning. 
Instinct  told  the  mother  hen  to  have  no  hesitation 
about  forgetting  them.  The  more  responsibility 
you  put  upon  a  subordinate,  the  bigger  and 
brighter  you  are  making  that  subordinate.  It  is 
by  ruling  that  he  learns  how  best  to  serve.  The 
wisest  ruler  is  he  who  gives  the  fewest  orders  but 
looks  for  the  greatest  results. 

I  believe  that  the  business  man  understands 
this  much  better  than  the  ecclesiastic,  and  the 
ecclesiastic  understands  it  much  better  than  the 
statesman. .  Eepublics  rarely  get  efficiency  in  gov- 
ernment, because  they  cannot  always  enforce  the 
basic  rules  that  it  requires.  Influence  counts  too 
much  for  one  thing.  The  self-seeker  has  too  much 
chance.  Favoritism  has  opportunities  that  are 
not  present  anywhere  else.  To  have  an  efficient 


RULE  AND  SERVICE  85 

government,  we  would  have  to  demand  an  abso- 
lute monarchy.  In  other  words,  we  would  have 
to  model  the  state  after  the  business  corpora- 
tion ;  for  the  lack  of  efficiency  is  the  weakness  of 
republics.  This  weakness  is  always  a  danger  and 
it  can  only  be  removed  by  dragging  others  into 
it.  Since  republics  never  want  to  become  monar- 
chies, their  only  safety  is  in  making  republics  out 
of  monarchies.  If  a  monarchy  were  established 
in  any  great  state  of  the  Western  Hemisphere, 
it  would  be  a  menace  not  only  to  the  prosperity, 
but  to  the  very  existence  of  every  republic  on  the 
Western  Hemisphere.  The  Monroe  Doctrine  is 
a  very  good  example  of  a  nation  recognizing  its 
own  weaknesses.  The  test  of  anyone  is  his  work, 
and  the  test  of  his  work  is  the  result.  It  is  for  the 
superior  to  see  that  the  means  are  as  worthy  as 
the  end. 

A  certain  Pope  managed  to  select  the  most 
beautiful  title  ever  taken  by  a  ruler  in  this  world. 
He  called  himself  "  Servant  of  the  Servants  of 
God".  Here  is  an  acknowledgment  from  one  of 
the  greatest  of  men  that  rule  and  service  prac- 
tically amount  to  the  same  thing.  Men  are  se- 
lected to  rule  only  for  the  purpose  of  advancing 
the  interests  of  their  fellow-men,  ^hich  means 
that  they  are  merely  in  the  service  of  their  fellow- 
men.  The  trappings,  the  pomp,  the  dignity  that 
go  with  government,  are  only  necessary  on  the 


86  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

same  principle  that  liveries  are  necessary.  ,  A 
democracy  is  a  great  thing  if  people  would  first 
learn  how  to  be  democrats ;  but  the  real  reason 
why  democracies  are  not  entirely  successful  is 
because  perverse  human  nature  insists  on  forget- 
ting that  service  means  dignity  as  well  as  respon- 
sibility, that  "to  serve  is  to  reign".  No  democ- 
racy can  exist  amongst  ignorant  people,  because 
the  mental  training  is  not  there  to  make  them 
understand  and  use  their  responsibilities  in- 
telligently. No  democracy  is  possible  amongst 
an  irreligious  people,  because  there  is  no 
higher  sanction  than  themselves  for  public 
service.  No  democracy  is  possible  amongst  a 
sinful  people,  because  one  sin  breeds  another; 
and  soon,  by  the  very  weakness  of  the  people, 
the  state  is  corrupted  for  the  sake  of  indi- 
viduals. 

To  be  a  good  servant-ruler  over  the  small 
things  is  to  have  the  reward  later  on  of  being 
placed  over  what  is  great.  The  parable  told  in 
Holy  Scripture  about  the  three  servants  who 
were  made  rulers  over  their  masters'  talents,  like 
all  of  Christ's  parables  applies  universally. 
Since  rule  and  service  mean  responsibility,  they 
call  for  vigilance,  activity,  honesty,  fairness  and 
results.  When  you  are  placed  over  others,  look 
upon  each  one  of  your  employees  as  a  person  you 
are  training  for  future  leadership.  The  first 


RULE  AND  SERVICE  87 

requisite  for  you  is  to  secure  confidence  in  your- 
self. You  cannot  secure  confidence  in  yourself 
by  antagonizing  your  employees  through  irrita- 
bleness,  dishonesty  and  unfairness.  If  you  ex- 
pect those  under  you  to  be  cheerful  and  happy  in 
their  work,  be  cheerful  and  happy  yourself.  If 
you  want  to  be  met  with  a  smile  in  the  morning, 
have  one  of  your  own  on  hand  for  early  use.  An 
even-tempered  superior  is  the  best  kind  of  a 
superior  to  get  along  with.  You  know  where  such 
a  person  stands,  and  he  radiates  confidence.  The 
meanest  thing  you  could  say  about  a  superior  is 
that  he  " meant  well"  as  an  apology  for  his  occa- 
sional outbreaks.  It  really  does  not  make  any 
difference  whether  he  " meant  well"  or  not.  He 
did  not  act  well,  and  that's  the  thing  that  counts. 
I  do  not  admire  the  superior  who  carries  his  good 
nature  to  the  point  where  he  thinks  he  ought  to 
be  always  cracking  jokes  and  telling  stories,  to 
make  those  under  him  believe  that  he  really  is  a 
good-natured  person.  There  is  more  solid  good- 
nature in  a  merry  twinkle  of  the  eye  than  in  all 
the  stories  in  a  joke  book.  Stories  take  time, 
which  is  precious.  A  smile  and  a  twinkle  take  no 
time.  Any  fool  can  tell  a  story ;  but  nobody  can 
look  kind  when  he  is  not  kind,  and  deceive 
anyone. 

Honesty  and  fair  play,  which,  after  all,  amount 
to  about  the  same  thing,  are  appreciated  more 


88  LETTERS  TO  rJACK 

than  any  other  virtue  in  a  superior;  and  it  is 
right  here  that  a  man  or  a  woman  in  a  position 
of  importance  has  to  constantly  keep  examining 
his  or  her  conscience.  The  easiest  thing  in  the 
world,  is  to  let  yourself  get  the  habit  of  judging 
what  is  good  for  others  by  what  you  like  yourself. 
It  is  pretty  hard  for  a  farmer  to  answer  the  nod 
of  a  passer-by  who  assures  him  that  it  is  a  "fine 
day",  when  the  farmer  knows  that  it  is  not  a  fine 
day  for  Mm,  because  his  land  needs  rain.  Every- 
thing in  God's  world  works  out  for  the  best  and 
for  the  general  good ;  but  individuals  rarely  can 
think  of  a  general  rule  when  they  are  hit  them- 
selves. As  an  example :  there  is  not  really  any 
argument  for  divorce  from  the  standpoint  of  the 
general  good.  From  that  standpoint  divorce  is 
a  curse  to  the  world  and  a  curse  to  the  human 
race.  Every  argument,  therefore,  that  you  hear 
in  its  favor  is  a  selfish  argument,  because  it  is  an 
argument  for  the  individual  case.  It  is  merely 
the  lack  of  logic  in  the  national  mind  that  allows 
divorce  to  continue.  This  logic,  however,  is  not 
lacking  when  it  comes  to  the  treatment  of  another 
kind  of  criminal — the  one  who  commits  murder. 
If  you  consider  the  murderer  only  as  an  indi- 
vidual, he  should  not  be  hanged  or  put  in  jail 
for  life,  because  it  is  not  going  to  do  him  any 
good.  But  he  is  not  hanged  or  jailed  for  his  own 
sake,  but  for  the  sake  of  society — for  the  general 


RULE  AND  SERVICE  89 

good.  Here  is  where  the  public  mind  works  log- 
ically. In  judging  others  and  their  actions,  try 
to  get  a  little  of  the  logic  required  for  the  gen- 
eral mind,  and  consider  the  work  and  deeds  of 
your  subordinates  from  the  standpoint  of  the  re- 
sults you  are  expecting  for  the  business  or  cause, 
rather  than  for  the  results  to  yourself  as  a  pri- 
vate individual. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  you  do  not  amount  to  very 
much.  You  are  only  a  cog  in  a  wheel.  It  is  not 
even  the  wheel  that  counts,  but  the  machine ;  not 
even  the  machine  but  the  product.  For  a  ma- 
chine to  function  well,  every  cog  has  to  be  doing 
its  work  honestly.  Iron  cogs  usually  do ;  human 
cogs  do  not.  The  trouble  with  human  cogs  is 
always  the  fact  that  they  become  so  selfish  that 
they  put  their  own  personal  feeling  in  place  of 
what  should  be  the  general  feeling.  The  easiest 
way  to  be  fair  with  subordinates  is  to  realize  that 
they  too  are  part  of  the  machine,  and  in  their  own 
way  are  just  as  necessary  as  the  other  part  of  it. 
Of  course,  no  big  institution  can  get  along  with- 
out a  head ;  but  it  would  be  a  sorry  sort  of  a  head 
that  had  no  members  beneath  it.  Some  of  the 
most  brilliant  men  in  this  world  died  as  the  result 
of  neglecting  a  little  lump  somewhere  on  their 
bodies  that  finally  turned  into  a  cancer.  Some  of 
the  biggest  movements  and  institutions  in  the 
world  died,  because  the  head  had  not  honesty 


90  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

enough,  or  brains  enough,  to  consider  the  general 
good. 

The  easiest  road  a  superior  can  take  to  success 
is  the  realization  of  the  fact  of  his  own  service. 
The  easiest  way  to  realize  that  fact  is  by  striving 
always  to  make  one's  own  mind  a  part  of  the 
general  mind.  The  easiest  way  to  do  that  is  by 
looking  up  to  God.  How  admirably  every  part 
of  His  works  functions,  when  its  functioning  is 
not  interfered  with  by  the  only  servant  who  has 
been  given  intelligence  and  free  will.  The  sea- 
sons come  and  go ;  the  leaves  die  and  are  reborn ; 
the  rain  falls,  and  the  sun  shines;  the  earth 
stores  its  unused  treasures  away ;  the  ground  pro- 
duces and  rests  until  it  regains  its  forces;  the 
lower  animals  serve  their  turn;  everything  in 
nature,  except  man,  runs  like  a  clock.  But  man 
has  free  will  and  in  that  resembles  God,  and  God 
gave  Him  the  gift  of  intelligence.  He  has  the 
power,  therefore,  to  interfere  if  he  wants  to  do  so ; 
but  when  he  uses  it  wrongfully,  he  gets  in  the  way 
of  the  harmony  of  creation.  He  would  not  if  he 
kept  looking  up  to  God.  We  would  not  be  dream- 
ing of  the  millennium  if  all  men  acted  as  they 
know  God  wants  them  to  act;  if  they  could  keep 
selfishness  out  of  their  conduct  and  were  part 
and  parcel  of  God's  machine.  We  would  not  err 
if  we  tried  to  imitate  the  perfections  that  we 
know  are  in  God ;  or  at  least  we  would  not  err 


KULE  AND  SERVICE  91 

greatly  enough  to  keep  so  much  injustice  in  the 
world.  Banish  injustice  and  you  banish  sin.  No 
man  can  be  just  and  selfish  at  the  same  time. 
That  is  a  supreme  law  which  admits  of  no 
exceptions. 


IX 
OTHER  PEOPLE 

v 

THE  world  is  a  great  ocean  beneath  which  there 
are  innumerable  fishing  banks.  Death  is  the  shore 
at  which  we  unload  what  we  have  taken,  at  the 
feet  of  God. 


MEN    respect    their    fellow-men    for    their    good 
qualities,  not  for  their  spendings. 


TAKE  everybody's  good  intentions  for  granted — 
but  watch  your  step. 


OTHER  PEOPLE 

My  dear  Jack: 

It  is  generally  supposed  that  a  man's  "family" 
consists  only  of  very  near  relatives.  I  would, 
however,  call  these  a  man's  intimate  family.  His 
real  family  consists  of  his  relatives,  his  friends 
and  his  enemies ;  because  all  of  these  have  more  or 
less  close  relations  with  him,  and  are  more  or 
less  responsible  for  influencing  his  career.  Out- 
side of  this  family  stands  the  great  mass  of  peo- 
ple with  whom  he  is  going  to  come  into  business 
and  social  relations.  The  Scriptures  call  this 
great  body  a  man's  "neighbors".  It  is  a  good 
name  for  them.  I  suppose  that  I  should  give 
them  the  same  general  name ;  but,  for  no  particu- 
lar reason,  I  have  fallen  into  the  habit  of  calling 
them  the  "Other  People". 

Although  for  the  success  of  any  man  or  woman 
a  great  deal  depends  upon  the  way  he  or  she 
treats  friends  and  enemies,  nevertheless  I  think 
more  depends  upon  the  way  the  Other  People  are 
treated.  There  are  more  of  the  Other  People, 
and  all  are  indifferent  to  you  until  they  need 
you.  Because  they  are  indifferent  to  you  until 

95 


96  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

that  time,  and  must  then  go  to  you,  or  then  listen 
to  you,  they  are  somewhat  like  judges  of  your 
case,  unprejudiced  by  affection  or  by  hatred. 
They  are  the  people  likely  to  take  you  for  what 
you  are  worth. 

The  Scripture  says :  ' '  Cast  thy  bread  upon  the 
running  waters :  for  after  a  long  time  thou  shalt 
find  it  again."  No  one  can  very  well  improve  the 
counsels  of  the  Scriptures ;  yet  everybody  tries, 
if  not  to  improve  them,  at  least  to  adapt  them. 
I  am  like  the  rest,  and  my  adaptation  of  this  text 
is:  "Cast  your  cake  upon  the  waters;  it  will 
attract  the  fishes  and  make  fat  those  that  come 
into  your  net."  We  are  all  of  us  out  fishing  with 
nets  for  something.  This  world  is  a  great  ocean 
beneath  which  there  are  innumerable  fishing 
banks.  Death  is  the  shore  at  which  we  unload 
what  we  have  taken,  at  the  feet  of  God.  Most  of 
us  are  hoping  to  land  "big  fish",  that  is  to  say,  to 
do  big  things.  It  is  perfectly  legitimate  for  us  to 
have  such  hopes ;  provided  we  do  not  forget  that 
what  we  catch  must  go  to  the  shore  for  inspection. 
If  we  forget  that,  it  is  probable  that  we  will  not 
throw  out  the  bad  fish  before  landing,  and  thus 
keep  the  catch  clean.  Cast  your  cake  upon  the 
waters?  Yes,  for  cake  is  sweeter  than  bread; 
but  do  not  make  it  too  sweet.  In  dealing  with 
Other  People  it  is  best  to  treat  them  all  as 
friends,  but  watch  them  as  if  they  were  enemies. 


OTHER  PEOPLE  97 

A  school-master  once  said  to  me  that  the  best 
way  to  manage  boys  is,  "to  think  of  them  as  little 
angels,  but  to  watch  them  as  little  devils".  An 
enlargement  of  this  idea  is  a  rather  good  rule  in 
dealing  with  men.  Kindness,  courtesy,  fairness, 
honesty,  candor,  all  can  be  brought  into  play; 
but  never  forget  that  the  Other  People  have  nets 
out  too ;  and  their  success  does  not  depend  upon 
giving  you  what  they  catch.  The  most  you  have 
a  right  to  expect  from  them,  in  fairness  and  jus- 
tice, is  a  chance  to  moor  your  boat  where  the  fish- 
ing is  good,  provided  it  does  not  hurt  their  own 
chances. 

Some  people  seem  to  imagine  that  they  have  a 
right  to  get  presents  of  fish  from  their  neigh- 
bors' catches.  It  is  here  that  trouble  begins. 
They  haven't  any  such  right.  They  only  have  a 
right  to  a  fair  chance.  Such  people  are  com- 
monly called  "grafters"  and  "pikers".  There 
is  nothing  so  contemptible  and  pitiful  in  life  as 
to  see  an  able-bodied  and  talented  man  trying  to 
live  off  his  neighbors,  with  his  hand  eternally  out 
to  beg  and  his  mouth  perpetually  open  to  com- 
plain. The  worst  habit  in  the  world  to  get  into 
is  the  habit  of  taking  for  yourself  what  you  do  not 
earn,  of  always  looking  for  gifts.  It  is  a  form  of 
stealing  that  hasn't  exactly  been  condemned  by 
the  Ten  Commandments,  but  is  reprehensible  be- 
cause it  injures  the  soul.  It  certainly  makes  the 


98  LETTERS  TO  'JACK 

man  who  practices  it  an  object  of  contempt  to 
others.  Amongst  Other  People  you  find  this 
specimen  everywhere.  In  the  street  car  he  never 
puts  his  hand  into  his  pocket  to  pay  a  fare ;  or,  if 
he  is  shamed  into  doing  it,  he  never  has  the 
change.  He  always  drops  in  to  see  you  at  lunch 
time,  or  trumps  up  the  excuse  of  an  important 
conference  so  that  you  may  invite  him.  He  never 
goes  to  the  theatre  except  at  someone  else's  ex- 
pense. If  you  play  a  game  with  him,  he  will 
never  bet  unless  with  inferior  players ;  and  then 
he  is  a  willing  " sport",  and  wants  everybody  to 
know  it.  Avoid  this  man.  Never  give  way  to  the 
temptation  to  be  like  him.  "Pay  as  you  go" ;  be 
as  good  as  the  next  man,  but  do  not  let  the  next 
man  take  advantage  of  your  goodness.  Above 
all,  make  up  your  mind  that,  if  you  cannot  do 
your  share  in  any  company,  it  is  not  the  com- 
pany for  you.  Never  mind  assurances  that  your 
companions  understand  the  situation,  or  that 
they  really  do  not  expect  you  to  do  as  they 
do.  If  you  accept  favors  thus  you  are  not  a  com- 
panion ;  you  are  an  inferior ;  you  do  not ' l  belong '  '. 
Avoid  patronizing  the  Other  People  by  getting 
into  a  crowd  and  paying  for  everything.  Many 
will  let  you  do  it;  but  in  their  hearts  they  are 
calling  you  a  fool.  Nobody  respects  a  spender, 
and  the  word  "good  fellow",  as  it  is  commonly 
used,  does  not  really  mean  anything  good.  The 


OTHER  PEOPLE  99 

average  "good  fellow"  is  not  a  good  fellow  at  all. 
He  is  a  person  so  full  of  human  respect  that  he 
is  trying  to  buy  the  respect  of  humans,  which 
cannot  be  bought.  Men  respect  their  fellow-men 
for  their  good  qualities,  not  for  their  spendings. 
I  read  this  bit  of  truth  once,  and  it  has  stuck  to 
me  ever  since:  "When  a  man  begins  to  neglect 
his  family,  people  begin  to  call  him  a  good  fel- 
low. ' '  Indeed,  I  would  rather  have  a  man  call  me 
a  thief  than  a  good  fellow;  because  at  least  a 
thief  may  be  physically  and  mentally  a  strong 
and  courageous  man,  though  weak  spiritually.  A 
"good  fellow"  is  often  a  thief  in  a  meaner  way. 
He  squanders  what  duty  requires  him  to  use  for 
his  family.  The  only  sort  of  courage  he  has  is 
too  often  the  courage  to  beat  his  wife  and  abuse 
his  children  when  they  ask  for  what  they  are 
entitled  to  have.  For  heaven's  sake,  don't  be  a 
"good  fellow".  Be  an  honest  man.  Be  self- 
respecting  in  your  own  kind  of  society.  Let 
everybody  know  that  you  stand  on  your  own  feet ; 
and  that,  when  you  give  charity,  you  give  it  to 
those  in  need  and  not  to  encourage  vice  and 
laziness. 

Avoid  the  man  popularly  known  as  a 
"climber".  He  has  only  one  desire  in  seeking 
your  society :  to  secure  the  social  prestige  he  can 
get  out  of  you  or  the  people  with  whom  you  are 
connected.  He  is  the  easiest  man  in  the  world  to 


100  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

discover,  because  lie  is  always  telling  you  of  the 
important  people  lie  has  met  and  what  they  said 
to  him.  He  looks  cheap  even  though  he  wears 
the  very  best  of  clothes.  In  some  way  that  you 
do  not  quite  understand,  he  may  consider  your 
acquaintanceship  an  asset ;  and  he  will  seek  it  for 
that  reason  only.  This  is  the  sort  of  a  man  who, 
while  he  does  not  rely  upon  himself  at  all,  yet 
will  often  get  into  the  society  he  desires  to  enter ; 
only,  however,  to  find  out  that  it  would  have  been 
much  better  for  him  had  he  stayed  out.  Society 
usually  has  a  lot  of  parasites  of  this  kind.  They 
amuse  society,  and  society  wants  to  be  amused. 
At  every  king's  court  in  the  olden  days,  there 
was  a  jester  wearing  cap  and  bells.  Anybody 
who  was  deformed  enough,  or  funny  enough, 
could  be  a  jester.  He  mixed  freely  with  lords 
and  ladies,  and  with  royalty  itself.  But  who 
would  want  to  be  a  jester?  We  have  no  jesters 
with  cap  and  bells  in  modern  society ;  but  there 
are  those  who  take  the  jester's  place  splendidly. 
Never  be  tempted  to  " climb".  If  you  succeed,  it 
will  be  to  your  sorrow.  Society  seeks  those  who 
naturally  belong  to  it ;  and  the  society  you  enter 
unsought,  you  enter  either  at  the  cost  of  your 
self-respect,  or  it  is  not  worth  your  considera- 
tion. Water  will  find  its  level  and  so  will  people. 
One  of  the  most  expressive  words  in  the  dic- 
tionary of  slang  is  the  word  "fourflusher". 


OTHER  PEOPLE  101 

There  are  more  than  enough  f  ourflushers  in  the 
world.  He  is  a  fourflusher  who  is  trying  to 
spend  what  he  does  not  possess,  to  live  where  he 
has  no  right  to  live,  to  eat  and  drink  what  he  has 
not  the  money  to  pay  for,  to  be  what  he  is  not  and 
could  not  be.  The  fourflusher  thinks  he  succeeds. 
He  never  does  with  the  " people  who  know", 
for  his  very  extravagance  exposes  him;  and, 
like  the  "climber",  he  turns  into  a  jester, — only 
in  his  case  he  is  an  object  of  laughter  and  con- 
tempt for  a  wider  range  of  people.  The 
" climber"  is  often  satisfied  to  be  thought  a  fool 
in  a  limited  circle,  that  he  may  be  thought  a  wise 
man  in  general.  A  fourflusher  has  a  harder 
row  to  hoe,  because  more  people  find  him  out, 
and  therefore  more  people  laugh  at  him.  If  you 
are  only  a  clerk  say  that  you  are  a  clerk ;  and  do 
not,  in  a  grandiloquent  way,  mention  that  you 
are  " connected  with"  such  and  such  a  house.  Do 
not  boast  about  your  friendships  or  your  attain- 
ments. It  takes  a  genius  to  deceive  with  that; 
indeed,  it  takes  a  genius  to  be  a  successful 
fourflusher.  Thank  God  you  show  no  sign  of 
being  a  genius  along  that  line.  If  one  insists  on 
being  a  fourflusher,  it  is  better  for  him  to  be 
found  out  and  found  out  quickly. 

In  dealing  with  the  Other  People,  one  of  the 
most  important  things  to  get  rid  of  is  prejudice ; 
but  in  the  case  of  a  young  Catholic,  it  ought  to 


102  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

be  an  easy  thing  to  get  rid  of.  Prejudice  breeds 
hate,  and  hate  is  the  destruction  of  peace.  Your 
Church,  it  is  true,  teaches  with  certainty  on  mat- 
ters of  faith  and  morals ;  but  the  fact  that  you 
know  does  not  give  you  a  right  to  be  prejudiced 
against  others  who  do  not  believe  as  you  do.  It 
is  not  true  that  almost  every  horse  has  a  blind 
side,  but  it  is  true  that  almost  every  man  has.  If 
men  had  no  blind  sides,  they  would  all  be  perfect ; 
and  none  of  us  is  perfect.  There  are  some  things 
that  Other  People  know  well  which  I  could 
not  learn  in  a  million  years — trigonometry,  for 
example ;  and  there  are  some  things  that  are  clear 
to  other  men's  vision  that  are  not  clear  to  mine. 
You  have  religious  certainty  partially  because  of 
the  chances  you  had  in  your  youth  to  learn  the 
'  '  truth  that  makes  you  free ' '.  The  Other  People 
may  not  have  had  the  same  chance;  but  they 
think  they  are  right  just  as  surely  as  you  know 
you  are.  They  are  honest,  and  therefore  you  owe 
them  respect;  for  you  owe  respect  to  honesty 
wherever  you  meet  it.  Prejudice  is  nothing  more 
than  pre- judging,  as  the  word  indicates.  Now, 
you  have  no  right  to  prejudge.  God  is  the  Judge, 
and  you  are  to  appear  before  His  court  in  com- 
pany with  all  the  Other  People.  What  are  you 
to  gain  by  judging  those  about  you  before  their 
time  ?  Prejudice  is  not  going  to  put  a  dollar  in 
your  pocket,  or  give  you  one  happy  day,  or  one 


OTHER  PEOPLE  103 

moment  of  honest  satisfaction.  It  is  not  going 
to  help  the  Other  People.  It  is  not  going  to  make 
the  world  any  happier;  on  the  contrary,  it  is 
going  to  make  the  world  more  miserable.  It  is 
going  to  hurt  the  Other  People  and  it  is  going 
to  hurt  you.  Avoid  prejudice.  If  you  are  in- 
vited to  join  a  society  that  boasts  of  the  charity 
to  its  members,  and  the  help  it  is  going  to  give 
you  in  business,  or  in  other  activities,  think  twice 
before  you  join  it.  It  may  be  built  upon  preju- 
dice. It  may  be  contrary  to  the  spirit  of  Christ, 
to  the  charity  that  should  exist  amongst  all  the 
children  of  God. 

A  consideration  of  societies  very  naturally 
arises  in  referring  to  your  relations  with  the 
Other  People.  Through  societies  you  meet  them 
in  numbers,  and  you  deal  with  them  not  only  as 
individuals,  but  in  the  mass.  There  is  a  useful 
side  to  societies;  but  the  moment  they  become 
selfish  the  usefulness  has  passed  away.  The  mo- 
ment societies  cause  a  young  man  to  depend  upon 
anyone  but  himself  and  the  grace  of  God,  they 
become  dangerous.  If  it  will  make  you  happier 
to  be  in  a  society,  by  all  means,  join  it;  provided 
it  is  not  of  the  dangerous  kind;  but  if  in  joining 
you  have  the  idea  that  the  society  is  going  to 
help  you  climb,  to  give  you  a  position  that  you 
will  not  have  to  work  for,  keep  out  of  it.  Above 
all  else,  do  not  wear  badges.  Avoid  lodge  watch 


104  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

charms  and  buttons.  Here,  of  course,  you  have 
the  laugh  on  your  old  uncle  who  has  a  rosette  on 
every  coat ;  but  let  me  say  that,  while  the  society 
button  is  a  possible  sign  of  the  f ourflusher,  the 
rosette  is  at  least  supposed  to  be  a  badge  of  dis- 
tinction. The  button  is  merely  a  vulgar  substi- 
tute for  a  decoration.  Decorations  are  given  by 
nations  for  distinguished  services  rendered.  In 
our  democratic  country  we  have  no  decorations, 
except  the  Medal  of  Honor;  but  Congress  has 
recognized  certain  marks  of  war  service,  so  that 
in  this  country,  as  in  other  countries,  the  rosette 
means  a  decoration  won  by  service  to  the  nation. 
While  the  wearing  of  it  may  indicate  some  pride 
which  perhaps  a  man  should  not  have,  neverthe- 
less it  comes  close  to  being  a  legitimate  pride.  A 
button  represents  nothing.  It  is  not  an  honor  to 
belong  to  a  fraternal  society.  It  is  often  the 
opposite.  It  is  not  a  mark  of  distinction,  since 
anybody  may  win  that  sort  of  a  badge  by  the  pay- 
ment of  money ;  but,  above  all,  it  is  not  the  mark 
of  a  strong  man.  You  never  saw  a  society  button 
on  the  coat  of  a  statesman.  You  never  saw  one  on 
the  coat  of  a  great  painter,  or  a  great  sculptor, 
or  a  great  writer.  Society  buttons  are  so  com- 
mon that  distinction  goes  to  the  man  who  does 
not  wear  one.  But  over  and  above  all  this  stands 
the  fact  that  a  society  button,  or  badge,  is  a  sign 
that  the  man  who  wears  it  is  depending  upon 


OTHER  PEOPLE  105 

something  outside  of  himself.  It  is  therefore  a 
mark  of  weakness,  a  hand  stretched  forth  to  beg. 
As  any  part  of  your  body  which  is  exercised  be- 
comes strong  through  use,  so  your  own  person- 
ality will  become  strong  from  within  by  using  it. 
A  man  who  lies  in  bed  whenjie  is  not  sick,  finds 
himself  weak  when  he  gets  out ;  and  therefore  in 
a  way  he  has  become  sicker.  A  man  who  habit- 
ually uses  a  crutch  that  he  does  not  need  will  ulti- 
mately need  it.  A  man  who  uses  the  crutch  of  a 
society  in  business  or  social  life,  weakens  himself 
just  that  much.  One  sign  of  a  strong  character 
is  found  in  buttonless  lapels  and  plain  watch 
chains. 

In  dealing  with  Other  People  take  everybody's 
good  intention  for  granted — but  watch  your  step, 
for  good  intentions  may  be  like  the  Birnim  wood 
in  Macbeth,  only  severed  trees  carried  to  deceive. 
Be  slow  to  believe  that  any  man  is  wrong,  and 
never  give  in  to  the  idea  that  he  is  until  you  have 
certainty.  Even  when  you  are  certain  do  not  talk 
about  it  to  others.  Do  not,  in  fact,  as  I  already 
told  you,  talk  about  anybody,  except  to  speak 
good  of  them.  Hunt  for  the  good  thing  to  say. 
Look  upon  every  person  you  meet  as  a  man  or 
woman  with  trials  and  troubles  like  your  own, 
trying  hard  to  make  his  or  her  way,  to  do  the  right 
thing,  and  in  the  end  to  get  to  the  right  place. 
Reverence  their  reputations  as  you  reverence 


106  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

your  own.  Be  kind  and  smiling  to  everybody, 
but  slap  nobody  on  the  back.  If  you  find  anyone 
you  particularly  like  be  chary  about  prying  into 
his  life  or  you  may  get  a  shock.  Trust  everybody 
but  do  not  put  temptation  in  anyone's  way  unless 
you  have  to.  And  do  not  flatter  people;  but 
remember  that,  while  it  is  true  "  honey  catches 
more  flies  than  vinegar" — and  also  more  bears — 
neither  flies  nor  bears  can  live  on  an  exclusive 
honey  diet. 


X 

THE  WORLD 

IT  was  a  mark  of  divine  wisdom  in  Christ  that  he 
foresaw  that  the  world  was  going  to  do  to  His 
followers  what  it  had  done  to  Him. 


DON'T  worry  if  you  find  that  the  world  is  against 
you.  If  the  world  were  for  you,  you  would  have 
cause  for  worry. 

KNOWLEDGE  alone  does  not  give  us  discipline ;  but 
the  getting  of  knowledge  does. 


THE  WORLD 
My  dear  Jack: 

Yesterday  I  was  glancing  over  the  editorial 
pages  of  a  New  York  weekly  paper  whose  chief 
reason  for  existence  seems  to  be  enmity  to  "the 
things  that  are".  Naturally,  the  Catholic  Church 
is  included.  A  rather  vicious  editorial  was 
headed,  "The  Catholic  Church  against  the 
World  ".  I  smiled  when  I  read  that  title.  It  was 
intended  as  a  "knock",  but  like  most  "knocks", 
it  succeeded  in  being  a  "boost".  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  to  any  reader  of  the  life  of  Christ  it  must 
be  apparent  that  Christianity  of  necessity  is  ar- 
rayed against  the  wrorld ;  and  it  naturally  follows 
that  the  world  will  always  be  arrayed  against 
Christianity.  The  Church  of  the  poor  is  the 
Church  of  Christ ;  for  to  the  wedding  feast  came 
the  blind  and  the  lame.  The  "big  men"  of  the 
world  were  quick  to  refuse  their  own  invitations. 
The  Church  the  world  hates  must  be  the  true 
Church ;  for  Christ  constantly  warned  against  the 
world,  and  even  went  so  far  as  to  say  to  His  fol- 
lowers: "Fear  not  if  the  world  hates  you."  It 
was  a  mark  of  divine  wisdom  in  Christ  that  He 

109 


110  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

foresaw  that  the  world  was  going  to  do  to  His 
followers  what  it  had  done  to  Him. 

All  the  above  was  preliminary  to  telling  you, 
Jack,  that  the  world  has  a  silken  cord  around 
every  human  being,  one  especially  around  youth, 
and  it  is  constantly  pulling  us  away  from  the 
things  that  are  good.  The  pull  was  never 
stronger  perhaps  than  it  is  today.  As  the  world 
becomes  richer,  worldlings  become  more  insistent 
in  demanding  the  comforts  that  riches  alone  can 
buy.  As  democracy  advances  beyond  the  zone  of 
safety,  the  world  demands  more  and  more  that 
all  restraint  be  thrown  aside.  As  the  world  be- 
comes more  " civilized",  in  the  poorest  sense  of 
the  word,  it  demands  more  and  more  that  men 
take  their  pleasures  here,  and  pay  less  attention 
to  hopes  of  the  hereafter.  The  pull  of  the  world  is 
away  from  pain,  from  discomfort,  from  labor, 
from  effort ;  in  other  words,  from  the  very  things 
that  have  been  responsible  for  the  comforts  and 
the  achievements  in  which  this  same  world  re- 
joices. The  world  is  against  the  discipline  which 
gave  it  all  its  great  achievements.  The  big  de- 
mand today  is  for  a  freedom  of  its  own  construc- 
tion. Everybody  asks  "to  live  his  or  her  own 
life",  which  is  another  way  of  saying  that  every- 
body is  becoming  selfish.  We  are  in  an  age  of 
"isms"  that  are  mostly  aimed  at  giving  us  a 
"good  time",  and  end  in  giving  us  the  "blues." 


THE  WORLD  111 

A  few  days  ago,  while  driving  outside  the  city, 
I  noticed  two  very  large  fields.  One  had  evi- 
dently been  lying  fallow  for  a  great  many  years ; 
but  the  other  was  full  of  waving  corn.  Instantly 
the  process  that  worked  on  both  was  pictured  to 
my  mind.  It  was  evident  that  the  fallow  field 
had  once  been  used  for  raising  hay.  There  were 
still  some  patches  of  hay  in  it,  or  rather  there 
was  some  tall  grass,  mixed  up  with  shrubs  of  all 
kinds,  saplings,  wild  flowers,  weeds.  When  the 
owner  began  to  neglect  that  land,  blowing  time 
had  come  for  the  dandelions;  and  a  wonderful 
number  of  the  little  white  balloons,  with  seeds  in 
the  baskets,  burst  over  the  field.  Each  basket 
dropped  on  a  blade  of  grass ;  then  the  rain  came 
and  washed  the  seeds  into  the  moist  earth.  Be- 
tween the  blades  the  dandelions  sprang  up,  but 
always  at  the  expense  of  the  useful  grass.  Later 
came  the  rag-weed,  the  golden  rod  and  the  poi- 
soned sumac ;  and  then  countless  other  seeds,  each 
looking  for  a  foothold.  It  took  years  to  do  it,  but 
when  the  years  had  passed  the  field  was  a  picture 
of  the  world  without  Christ,  of  a  "free  world", 
of  a  world  without  restraints.  The  weeds  are,  of 
course,  a  survival  of  the  strongest,  but  the  strong- 
est in  the  worldly  sense  is  not  always  the  de- 
sirable. Every  plant  in  the  field  was  free  to  do 
its  best.  Each  one  of  them  did  its  best ;  and  so 
even  to  look  at  the  result,  causes  pain. 


112  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

The  other  field  had  nothing  in  it  but  corn — 
beautiful  corn,  grown  high  and  with  cobs  well 
covered  with  nourishment.  There  was  not  a 
thing  about  that  corn  that  could  not  be  put  to  use, 
even  down  to  its  roots.  It  occupied  the  field  to 
the  exclusion  of  everything  else.  What  process 
produced  this  splendid  result  ?  The  farmer  had 
gone  into  that  field  with  a  plow,  scored  it  a  foot 
deep  and  broke  it  into  sods.  Then  he  went  in 
again  and  harrowed  out  all  the  weeds.  After  that 
he  went  over  the  field  with  a  pulverizer.  He 
smashed  the  remaining  sods  to  pieces,  so  that 
there  was  nothing  left  but  the  soft  yielding  soil. 
Only  then  did  he  plant.  When  the  corn  came  up, 
he  again  went  to  cutting  and  slashing  at  the  earth. 
He  pulverized  it  over  again  with  the  hoe.  He 
took  out  every  noxious  plant  that  could  hurt ;  and 
he  went  back  to  the  same  task  again  and  again. 
So  the  useful  thing  was  done. 

The  Christian  Church  is  the  mystical  body  of 
Christ ;  and  Christians  are  the  useful  things  that 
grow  in  the  field.  How  was  the  field  first  pre- 
pared ?  It  was  prepared  by  the  breaking  of  the 
flesh  of  Christ  Himself.  Like  the  field  He  was 
scored  and  plowed  with  pain.  There  wasn't  an 
inch  of  His  body  left  without  a  wound,  and  not  a 
spot,  no  matter  how  small,  without  the  red  but 
glorious  stain  of  His  blood.  Then  from  His  own 
lips  fell  the  seed  of  the  Word,  out  of  which 


THE  WORLD  113 

spring  the  Christian  lives  that  are  to  be  "  gath- 
ered into  His  barns".  Again  and  again  the  mys- 
tical body  of  Christ  is  cut  and  scored  for  the  cul- 
tivation of  souls.  All  the  while  the  rain  of  God's 
grace  falls  on  the  field  and  on  the  plants  to  give 
them  strength  and  nourishment.  Thus  are  souls 
grown  for  God. 

The  great  lesson  that  comes  out  of  all  this  is 
that  of  the  utility  of  pain.  Christianity  is  built 
upon  pain.  We  are  growing  constantly  upon 
pain.  Love  is  pain.  We  were  given  human  life 
in  the  pain  of  our  mothers.  We  go  into  Eternal 
Life  through  the  pain  of  death.  We  are  kept  in 
God's  ways  by  pain.  I  might  even  say  that  we 
cannot  grow  to  full  Christian  stature  without 
pain. 

But  since  the  world  is  against  pain,  since  it  is 
looking  only  for  comforts,  it  follows  that  Chris- 
tianity, born  in  pain  and  living  in  pain  and  to 
die  to  the  earth  in  pain,  is  against  the  world. 
But  this  is  not  actually  so  hard  as  it  seems,  for 
Christianity  alone  understands  what  is  beyond 
the  gates  of  the  Great  Pain ;  and  knows  that  the 
plowing  and  the  harrowing  and  the  hoeing  must 
be  done  to  produce  the  result. 

If  you  would  be  a  success  even  in  the  world,  by 
which  I  mean  the  kind  of  a  success  that  begins  in 
this  world  but  grows  into  the  next,  do  not  shrink 
from  discipline ;  therefore,  do  not  fear  pain  over- 


114  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

much.  Nothing  you  can  do  will  take  either  one 
out  of  your  life ;  but  you  may  do  very  much  to 
get  good  out  of  both.  Discipline  in  reality  epito- 
mizes the  whole  idea  of  education.  Sidney  Smith, 
referring  to  knowledge,  says :  "  It  is  worth  while 
in  the  days  of  our  youth  to  strive  hard  for  this 
great  discipline/'  But  knowledge  alone  does  not 
give  us  any  discipline,  while  the  getting  of  knowl- 
edge does.  A  truly  educated  man  is  not  the  one 
who  speaks  many  languages  and  knows  all 
branches  of  science.  He  is  rather  the  one  who 
has  profited  by  his  efforts  to  learn  these  things, 
as  well  as  the  higher  things  of  God,  to  the  extent 
that  he  is  disciplined.  The  truly  educated  man 
is  the  man  who  has  mastered  himself.  A  river 
without  banks  would  not  be  a  river  at  all.  Steam 
unconfined  is  worthless  as  a  power.  Thoughts 
without  reason  are  useless.  Love  without  respect 
is  base.  But  the  banks  are  the  discipline  of  the 
river,  the  cylinder  of  the  steam,  reason  of  thought 
and  respect  of  love.  The  big  thing  that  religion 
does  for  a  man  or  a  woman  is  in  the  soul  disci- 
pline that  it  gives.  There  is  no  education  without 
that.  There  is  only  one  step  between  knowledge 
and  barbarism.  The  French  revolutionists  re- 
jecting discipline,  took  barbarism,  and  drenched 
their  country  with  blood. 

Do  not  try  the  easy  path  if  you  would  make  a 
success  in  life  and  a  greater  success  in  death.   No 


THE  WORLD  115 

one  ever  succeeded  who  picked  the  easy  path. 
Some  people  are  placed  upon  it  and  like  it  so  well 
that  they  will  not  seek  another.  These  are  mostly 
the  unfortunate  sons  of  foolish  millionaires.  The 
biggest  curse  a  boy  could  have  is  the  fortune  that 
puts  him  on  the  easy  path  and  holds  him  there. 
The  greatest  gift  he  can  get  is  the  chance  to  suf- 
fer. It  is  an  unfortunate  thing  that  so  many 
who  get  that  chance,  do  not  take  the  fruit  out  of 
suffering,  or  have  not  the  grace  to  do  it,  and 
so  drift  and  drift  until  they  end  disgruntled 
failure?. 

Don't  worry  if  you  find,  therefore,  that  the 
world  is  against  you.  If  the  world  were  for  you, 
you  would  have  cause  for  worry ;  but  when  it  is 
against  you,  then  you  may  know  that  you  are  on 
the  right  track.  The  best  of  it  is  that,  even  though 
the  world  is  against  you,  it  cannot  prevent  your 
succeeding ;  for  all  men  who  win  out  in  the  battle 
of  life  succeed  in  spite  of  the  world.  The  world 
hates  to  confess  that  you  are  right;  but  it  is 
forced  to  make  the  confession,  because  it  does  not 
trust  its  own.  When,  even  for  the  protection  of 
its  own  pleasures  it  demands  honesty,  it  knows 
that  it  must  go  outside  of  itself  to  find  it.  When 
it  wants  greatness,  it  knows  that  true  greatness 
is  not  found  in  its  cabarets.  When  it  demands 
genius,  it  knows  that  its  own  kind  of  genius  is 
like  a  poppy,  brilliant  enough  in  color,  but  full 


116  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

of  a  deadly  soporific.  All  the  world's  blossoms 
are  poison-flowers.  Blossoms  of  the  God  who  is 
against  the  world  are  less  brilliant  in  color,  per- 
haps, to  the  eye  of  the  world ;  but  their  perfume 
is  the  sweetest  and  it  lasts  through  eternity. 

Perhaps  to  the  minds  of  many  it  may  sound 
strange  that  I  should  counsel  you  to  love  pain; 
but  when  I  say  "pain"  I  mean  all  the  things  that 
make  for  discipline ;  the  unpleasant  things  that 
prepare  you,  the  hard  work  that  wearies  you,  the 
good  thoughts  that  shut  the  ears  of  your  soul 
from  what  men  think  are  the  sweetest  melodies. 
This  is  the  pain  I  mean.  But  even  out  of  phys- 
ical pain  you  may  get  many  things  for  your  good. 
You  may  rise  triumphantly  above  it.  You  may 
make  it  a  small  thing  in  your  life  instead  of  let- 
ting it  fill  your  life.  Above  all  you  may  make  it 
count  for  fertility,  and,  because  of  its  plowing 
and  harrowing  and  pulverizing  and  hoeing  of 
your  soul,  you  may,  out  of  it,  grow  into  vigor 
and  strength. 


XI 
CITIZENSHIP 

ALREADY  we  are  beginning  to  talk  of  a  "  wider 
democracy  "  than  was  planned  by  our  fathers, 
not  realizing  that  the  "  wider  democracy  "  of 
tomorrow  may  be  only  a  swinging  back  of  the 
pendulum  to  absolute  monarchy. 


IT  is  important  to  realize  that  when  monarchies 
fail  it  is  because  of  the  monarch;  but  when 
democracies  fail  it  is  because  of  the  people. 


POVERTY  is  a  cement  for  democracy  which  riches 
corrode. 


CITIZENSHIP 
My  dear  Jack: 

The  proper  time  for  talking  to  a  young  man 
about  citizenship  is  when  he  has  reached  the  age 
of  twenty — one  year  before  he  assumes  citizen's 
duties,  when  his  mind  has  already  matured  suffi- 
ciently to  make  his  thinking  intelligent;  but 
with  twelve  months  ahead  to  leisurely  consider 
advice. 

The  fatal  errors  of  the  age  arise  chiefly  from 
the  shallowness  of  the  modern  mind,  which  is  too 
ready  to  accept  ideas  merely  because  they  are 
new  and  interesting.  The  world  today  is  eter- 
nally hungering  for  novelty,  which  unfortunately 
it  takes  for  discovery.  We  exalt  the  age  in  which 
we  live  with  very  good  reason,  for  it  has  produced 
many  really  good  things ;  but  we  forget  that  we 
purchased  at  a  high  price  what  good  we  have.  We 
seldom  think  of  the  multitude  of  ruins  that  sur- 
round our  modern  skyscraper.  Fearing  to  go  too 
slow,  we  have  raced.  Our  own  nation  trembles 
at  every  blast.  We  are  not  ready  to  admit,  even 
to  ourselves,  that  our  democracy  is  going  to  en- 
dure. We  say  that  it  is,  but  inwardly  we  doubt 
our  own  optimism.  Already  we  are  beginning 

119 


120  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

to  talk  of  a  "wider  democracy "  than  that  which 
was  planned  by  our  fathers,  not  realizing  that 
the  "wider  democracy"  of  tomorrow  may  be  only 
a  swinging  back  of  the  pendulum  to  absolute 
monarchy.  Our  government  upheld  the  recent 
Mexican  revolution,  but  did  not  discover  until 
it  was  too  late  that  it  intended  to  supplant  dem- 
ocracy by  socialism.  Socialism  was  actually  es- 
tablished in  Yucatan,  and  upheld  by  one-man 
power.  The  Church  knew  all  along  that  the 
trend  toward  socialism  meant  a  trend  toward 
absolute  monarchy.  It  makes  very  little  differ- 
ence practically,  whether  you  call  the  ruler  a 
monarch  or  a  president.  It  makes  very  little 
difference  whether  you  call  a  government  by  the 
name  of  kingdom  or  republic.  It  is  not  title  that 
counts ;  it  is  the  power.  I  very  much  fear  that 
the  "wider  democracy"  our  day  looks  for  will, 
when  it  arrives,  be  the  end  of  democracy  of  any 
kind. 

It  is  perfectly  true  that  our  democracy  has  not 
worked  out  ideally,  but  that  should  not  be  taken 
as  proving  it  a  failure.  Monarchies  have  not 
worked  out  ideally,  and  they  have  the  advantage 
of  a  sounder  philosophy  behind  them.  But  it  is 
important  to  realize  that,  when  monarchies  fail 
it  is  because  of  the  monarch;  but  when  democra- 
cies fail,  it  is  because  of  the  people.  So  the  fail- 
ure of  a  democracy  is  something  to  be  regretted 


CITIZENSHIP  121 

far  more  than  the  failure  of  a  monarchy.  It  is 
bad  enough  for  a  king  to  sell  the  liberties  of  his 
people;  but  it  is  worse  for  a  people  to  sell  the 
liberties  they  had  bought  so  dearly  for  them- 
selves. 

We  have  a  clear  field  for  democracy  in  North 
America,  for  we  have  two,  at  least,  that  are 
working  out  well.  I  refer,  of  course,  to  the 
United  States,  and  Canada.  The  United  States 
is  a  democracy  under  its  proper  name.  Canada 
is  a  democracy  masquerading  under  the  name 
of  a  royal  colony.  Both  have  been  successful. 
Their  continued  success  depends  on  all  their 
people  rather  than  on  an  individual  ruler.  We 
have  the  opportunity  to  prove  the  very  attrac- 
tive theory  of  democracy  quite  sound;  and,  in 
proving  it,  we  work  for  the  happiness  of  mil- 
lions. 

The  greatest  obstacle  to  the  success  of  a  dem- 
ocracy is  that  it  depends  in  a  too  impersonal  sort 
of  way  on  a  very  large  body  of  citizens.  The 
responsibility,  therefore,  does  not  weigh  heavily 
enough  upon  each  individual.  It  is  much  easier 
to  have  a  successful  Republic  of  San  Marino, 
with  its  handful  of  citizens,  none  wealthy  but 
each  taking  a  real  and  personal  interest  in  it, 
than  to  have  a  successful  Republic  of  the  United 
States  of  America,  depending  upon  the  rather 
vague  affection  of  many  chiefly  anxious  to  pile 


122  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

up  fortunes  for  themselves.  Wealth  inevitably 
makes  for  careless  citizenship.  A  significant  fact 
is,  that  the  well-to-do  cannot  be  brought  out  to 
vote  on  a  rainy  day.  Poverty  is  a  cement  for 
democracy  which  riches  corrode.  A  small  popu- 
lation keeps  loyalty  concentrated  and  effective, 
while  millions  spread  the  responsibility  out  too 
thin.  Millions  are  not  an  asset  to  a  democracy, 
but  rather  a  very  great  and  a  very  dangerous 
liability.  When,  as  in  the  United  States,  we  have 
wealth  and  a  hundred  million  citizens,  it  becomes 
all  the  more  necessary  for  individuals  to  con- 
sider their  duties  well  and  often,  trying  to  make 
up  for  the  inevitable  delinquency  of  their  fel- 
lows. 

The  importance  of  thinking  deeply  over  the 
obligations  of  responsible  citizenship  is  great.  It 
is  no  light  thing  to  take  on  one  the  burden  of 
the  ballot ;  and  the  fact  that  so  many  share  the 
burden  is  an  added,  not  a  lessened  weight.  There 
are  too  many  who  hold  their  duties  lightly,  to 
permit  the  serious  to  shirk.  There  are  too  many 
who  depend  for  their  well-being  on  the  action 
of  individual  citizens  to  permit  those  who  know, 
to  act  as  if  they  did  not  know.  I  counsel  you  to 
approach  the  coming  responsibilities  carefully 
and  to  assume  them  very  thoughtfully. 

Neither  can  I  too  much  urge  upon  you  to  dis- 
trust theories  until  they  have  been  tried,  but 


CITIZENSHIP  123 

never  to  dismiss  them  untouched.  Outside  of 
revealed  truth  and  the  truths  of  natural  religion, 
all  progress  has  come  from  theorizing.  Theories 
have  a  way  of  rejecting  themselves,  or  proving 
themselves,  if  you  give  them  a  chance.  When 
they  prove  themselves,  they  become  accepted 
principles  and  facts.  The  common  mind,  if  you 
let  it  work  its  way,  does  not  go  far  wrong,  since 
it  is  always  at  least  open  to  conviction.  Selfish- 
ness, however,  often  swerves  it  from- the  proper 
path.  Sloth  and  sin  have  the  same  effect  upon 
it.  Right  does  not  always  win  in  an  election,  any 
more  than  in  a  battle;  but  when  right  loses,  it 
is  because  honest  thinking  was  not  done,  re- 
sponsibilities were  slurred  over.  God  has  a  way 
of  letting  the  common  mind,  when  deceived,  run 
to  disaster,  so  that  out  of  it  a  fresh  start  can  be 
made.  Once  the  common  mind  goes  wrong,  it 
needs  disaster  to  set  it  right,  for  the  down-grade 
always  stops  with  a  bump  at  the  bottom  of  the 
hill. 

You  will  hear  it  said  that  every  citizen  should 
vote.  Some  governments  interfere  with  individ- 
ual liberty  to  the  extent  of  forcing  citizens  to 
vote.  It  is  true  and  it  is  not  true  that  every 
citizen  should  vote.  Every  great  obligation  is 
reached  only  by  piling  minor  obligations  on  top 
of  one  another.  The  obligation  of  voting  pre- 
supposes the  obligation  of  honest  voting.  The 


124  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

obligation  of  honest  voting  presupposes  the  obli- 
gation of  conscientious  consideration.  The  citi- 
zen who  has  not  fulfilled  his  minor  obligations 
should  refrain  from  thrusting  his  ignorance  into 
the  solution  of  a  great  question.  No  one  has  a 
right  to  vote  until  he  has  made  himself  capable 
of  judging.  Those  who  have  not  made  them- 
selves capable  of  judging  should  leave  voting  to 
better  men.  When  we  utter  the  commonplace 
that  " every  citizen  should  go  to  the  polls",  we 
are  merely  saying  that  every  citizen  should  be 
an  honest  and  thoughtful  citizen. 

The  citizens  of  a  democracy  are  judges,  sitting 
in  the  court  of  public  opinion  on  questions  that 
concern  even  the  very  existence,  as  well  as  the 
prosperity  of  their  country,  and  the  happiness 
of  its  people.  Judges  may  err,  but  should  never 
err  willfully.  A  citizen,  therefore,  cannot  let  a 
political  party  do  his  thinking  for  him  and  re- 
main an  upright  judge.  He  cannot  shift  his  re- 
sponsibility over  on  anybody  else.  Political  par- 
ties are  necessary,  just  as  lawyers  are  necessary 
in  the  courts ;  but  they  are  not  judges,  they  are 
pleaders.  The  judge  has  no  right  to  go  down, 
mingle  with  the  lawyers,  and  take  sides  in  a  case 
that  he  is  trying.  The  really  honest  citizen  is 
never  a  partisan.  It  is  not  a  disgrace  to  be  "on 
the  fence",  for  "on  the  fence"  means  to  be  on 
the  bench.  My  counsel  to  you  is  to  stay  on  the 


CITIZENSHIP  125 

bench  when  you  arrive  on  it,  and  be  free  in  fact 
as  well  as  in  name.  Never  vote  for  any  party 
unless  it  has  made  good  its  case.  Bring  your  con- 
science along  with  you  to  every  election.  It  was 
Henry  Clay  who  said:  "I  had  rather  be  right 
than  be  President."  We  can  improve  that  say- 
ing by  adding;  " Still  better  is  it  to  be  right  and 
President."  So  I  had  rather  be  right  than  vic- 
torious, but  it  is  better  to  be  right  and  victorious. 


XII 
CLEANLINESS 

IT  is  quite  useless  to  tell  a  young  man  not  to' 
narrate  filthy  stories  or  to  blaspheme,  if  he  has 
the  filth  in  his  mind  and  the  thoughts  of  blas- 
phemy in  his  soul. 

TRACE  out  all  the  failures  in  the  world  and  you 
will  find  that  impurity  has  the  largest  toll  of 
victims. 

HE  who  guards  his  thoughts  also  guards  his 
tongue. 


CLEANLINESS 

My  dear  Jack: 

This  letter  is  not  about  bathing,  in  spite  of 
its  title.  Neither  you  nor  your  fellow  modern 
young  men  need  to  be  informed  on  that  subject. 
Our  day  has  exalted  the  bath,  but  I  do  not  think 
we  are  going  quite  so  far  as  the  old  Romans. 
We  are  too  busy  for  one  thing.  The  worst  of 
us  have  to  take  our  pleasures  in  a  hurry ;  so  the 
old  Romans  must  still  remain  in  a  bathing  class 
by  themselves. 

The  unfortunate  thing  about  the  old  Romans 
was  the  fact  that,  though  clean  without,  they  were 
foul  within ;  and  so  they  succeeded  in  attaching 
to  the  idea  of  a  clean  skin  the  idea  of  a  filthy 
mind.  When  Christianity  arrived  there  was  a 
revolt  which  drove  some  good  men  to  the  oppo- 
site extreme,  not  because  the  saintly  people  loved 
dirt,  but  because  they  loved  mortification.  Had 
paganism  not  made  cleanliness  an  excuse  for  lux- 
ury and  vice,  certain  Christians  would  never 
have  been  affrighted  at  the  bath.  Now  it  is 
known  that  there  is  a  " golden  mean".  If  " clean- 
liness" is  not  really  "next  to  godliness",  it  is  at 
least  not  opposed  to  godliness.  I  rather  admire 

129 


130  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

some  of  the  saints  for  the  sacrifices  they  made 
to  combat  an  evil  that  was  much  worse  than  dirt. 
Had  Eome  been  dirty,  I  question  if  she  would 
have  fallen  so  soon.  The  bath  had  more  to  do 
with  her  fall  than  the  Goths.  The  legacy  of  the 
luxury  bath  to  the  Vandals  who  slept  out  their 
strength  in  their  villas  around  Carthage  was  the 
appropriate  revenge  of  the  conquered. 

Luxury  breeds  uncleanness  of  heart  and  soul ; 
but  there  is  an  uncleanness  of  heart  and  soul 
that  precedes  luxury.  This  is  the  uncleanness 
that  kills  all  that  is  good  in  a  man,  the  surest 
road  to  absolute  failure.  Ponder  often  on  the 
Beatitude:  " Blessed  are  the  clean  of  heart,  for 
they  shall  see  God." 

It  is  good  to  have  the  blessing  put  on  the  clean 
of  heart;  for  that  implies  interior  cleanliness, 
and  gets  us  to  the  root  of  the  virtue  of  purity  at 
once.  Purity  is  within,  though  the  manifesta- 
tion of  it  is  without.  It  is  quite  useless  to  tell 
a  young  man  not  to  narrate  filthy  stories,  or  to 
blaspheme,  if  he  has  the  filth  in  his  mind  and  the 
thoughts  of  blasphemy  in  his  soul.  Doctors  to- 
day are  getting  away  from  drugs  so  as  to  attack 
the  root  rather  than  the  manifestations  of  dis- 
ease. The  doctors  of  the  soul  did  that  from  the 
beginning.  As  "the  wish  is  father  to  the 
thought,"  they  sought  to  change  the  unworthy 
desires  of  men  by  substituting  the  desire  for 


CLEANLINESS  131 

God.  To  cure  impurity  it  is  necessary  to  work 
on  the  heart.  The  heart' will  take  care  of  the 
mind,  and  the  mind  will,  by  God's  grace  which 
strengthens  the  will,  take  care  of  the  actions. 

There  is  one  kind  of  flight  that  is  not  coward- 
ice. It  is  flight  from  the  occasions  of  sin,  from 
evil  and  impure  thoughts.  This  flight  is  bravery, 
the  bravery  that  wins.  Impurity  cannot  be  trifled 
with.  It  is  too  insidious  an  enemy  of  God  and 
man.  Flee  the  very  thought  of  it.  Avoid  the  oc- 
casions of  it.  Put  a  guard  on  every  sense  through 
which  it  may  enter  the  soul.  It  is  like  a  raging 
flood  when  you  fail  to  stop  the  first  break  in  your 
defences.  The  smallest  trickle  through  the  dyke 
is  dangerous.  The  flood  itself  kills  every  good 
thought  and  aspiration.  It  overflows  from  one 
soul  to  another.  It  ruins  races  and  peoples  and 
nations.  Trace  out  all  the  failures  of  the  world 
and  you  will  find  that  impurity  has  the  largest 
toll  of  victims.  Would  you  swallow  a  tiny  germ 
of  cholera  just  because  it  is  so  small?  Then,  do 
not  entertain  a  bad  thought  because  it  is  so  weak. 
The  cholera  germ  is  not  small  in  its  power;  and 
the  evil  thought  is  anything  but  weak. 

He  who  guards  his  thoughts  also  guards  his 
tongue.  Blasphemy  is,  like  all  sins,  the  depth  of 
folly.  No  one  ever  profited  by  it  to  the  value  of 
a  penny.  It  gets  you  nowhere.  It  gives  you 
nothing.  It  stamps  you  a  boor,  a  fool  or  a  knave 


132  LETTERS  TO  rJACK 

to  clean-spoken  people.  There  is  no  reason  in  it. 
There  is  no  consolation.  It  leaves  only  bitterness 
after  it  to  the  one  who  is  its  slave,  and  only  hurt 
for  those  who  hear  it.  When  the  Jews  stoned 
blasphemers  they  inflicted  a  just  penalty  on 
them ;  for  a  blasphemer  is  a  rotten  apple  in  the 
barrel  and  should  be  thrown  out  to  save  the  rest. 
Be  clean  for  God's  sake.  Be  clean  for  your 
own  sake.  Be  clean  for  your  neighbor's  sake. 
Be  clean  for  your  country's  sake.  Be  clean  of 
body,  clean  of  heart,  clean  of  lips,  clean  of 
thought,  clean  of  mind.  You  need  very  little 
more  than  that  to  be  a  success,  even  in  a  worldly 
way.  When  a  man  is  thus  clean,  it  shows  that 
he  has  an  intellect.  I  would  take  my  chances  for 
other  things  a  thousand  times  more  readily  with 
the  clean  man  than  with  the  filthy  one.  If  the 
latter  had  the  genius  of  Cicero  I  would  yet  not 
want  a  shameless  man  around  me.  He  cannot 
do  enough  for  me  in  a  worldly  way  to  offset  the 
harm  his  very  presence  causes.  One  of  the  worst 
terrors  in  the  idea  of  Hell  is  its  associations ;  for 
by  losing  the  Supreme  Cleanliness,  we  drop  to 
an  eternal  contact  with  all  that  is  supremely 
unclean. 


XIII 
LOVE 

THERE  isn't  anything  funnier,  and  yet  there  isn't 
anything  more  appealing,  than  a  boy  or  a  girl 
suffering  and  happy  in  *  *  love  ' ' ;  and  yet  there 
isn't  anything  quite  so  fearful  as  that  same  love 
when  it  has  discovered  itself  to  itself. 


A  BABY  is  attracted  by  a  shining  ornament,  and  a 
youth  is  attracted  by  bright  eyes.  Both  may  be 
fools  in  their  own  way. 


LOVE 
My  dear  Jack: 

I  can  almost  see  you  smile  when  you  open  this 
letter  and  almost  hear  the  whispered  question: 
"How  can  forty-six  years  of  inexperience  teach 
modern  twenty  anything  about  the  great  lesson 
of  loving?"  Yes,  I  know.  Love,  you  think,  was 
cut  out  of  my  life ;  while  to  you  it  is  not  only  per- 
missible, but  much  to  be  desired.  But  how  do 
you  know  that  it  was  cut  out  of  my  life  ?  Mortal 
eyes  have  not  searched  hearts ;  and  the  great  bulk 
of  the  love  that  has  been  in  the  world,  and  is  still 
in  the  world,  has  been,  and  is,  love  unconfessed. 
Indeed,  I  think  the  strongest  loves  are  those  that 
never,  by  the  touch  of  speech,  were  released  from 
the  heart.  It  may  be  that  I  know  a  great  deal 
more  about  it  than  you  do;  though  in  another 
way.  One  thing  I  am  willing  to  confess :  of  what 
the  world  calls  "love",  I  have  known  nothing  by 
experience. 

But  if  I  have  not  in  manhood  had  any  experi- 
ence, at  least  stern  duty  has  always  forced  ob- 
servation. A  pastor  very  soon  gets  to  fear  the 
thing  that  seems  so  often  to  be  stronger  than  God 
Himself.  He  knows  what  sends  many  of  the 

135 


136  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

young  people,  who  owe  much  to  his  careful  teach- 
ings, straight  on  the  downward  path  to  perdition. 
Every  pastor  has  remembrances  of  long  argu- 
mentations, in  which  he  had  the  right  side,  with 
reason,  logic,  self-interest  and  a  great  many  other 
things  supporting  him;  and  on  the  other  side 
nothing  but  "love" — but  it  was  love  that  won. 
He  remembers  very  well  that  he  entered  into  the 
fight  hopeless,  knowing  in  advance  that  he  was 
beaten,  but  fighting  on  for  the  sake  of  duty. 
"Love",  as  the  world  knows  it,  has  been  a  will-o'- 
the-wisp  that  beckoned  many  lost  ones  into  the 
everglades. 

But,  after  all,  is  that  thing  really  love  ?  It  is 
not.  Some  people  cannot  understand  how  reason 
and  love  could  ever  go  together;  yet  I  cannot 
understand  love  without  reason. 

To  show  you  what  I  mean  I  am  going  to  ask 
you  to  consider  the  two  kinds  of  love,  both  of 
which  inevitably  push  themselves  on  the  atten- 
tion :  that  of  husband  and  wife,  and  that  of  par- 
ent and  child.  Which  is  the  stronger  and  the 
more  enduring?  My  observation  tells  me  that  it 
is  the  latter.  The  love  of  husband  and  wife 
changes,  with  fading  beauty,  into  a  wonderful 
companionship,  that  has  a  charm  all  its  own.  It 
lasts  less  as  love  than  as  understanding.  It 
steadies  into  something  reasonable,  having  a  defi- 
nite end  in  view ;  and  dies  only  when  the  reason 


LOVE  137 

is  quarreled  out  of  it.  I  have  no  hesitation  in 
saying  that  the  emotion  immediately  preceding 
this  understanding  is  not  love.  It  is  passion, 
chastened  and  made  somewhat  beautiful  by  re- 
spect. I  think  that  the  boy  or  girl  stage  of  love 
is  very  beautiful,  because  it  is  a  love  that  is  full 
of  fear  to  touch  and  spoil.  There  isn't  anything 
funnier,  and  yet  there  isn't  anything  more  ap- 
pealing, than  a  boy  or  a  girl  suffering,  and  happy, 
in  "love";  and  yet  there  isn't  anything  quite  so 
fearful  as  that  same  love  when  it  has  discovered 
itself  to  itself.  It  is  then  that  passion  steps  in. 
I  have  come  to  the  melancholy  conclusion  that  too 
many  mistake  passion  for  something  better.  The 
love  that  begins  pure,  that  passes  through  the 
second  stage  when  it  is  not  so  pure,  and  then  mel- 
lows into  understanding,  is  the  love  that,  while 
it  peoples  the  earth,  nevertheless  cares  for  the 
earth,  and  gives  birth  to  the  great  things.  To 
my  mind  this  love  is  never  as  strong  as  the  love 
of  parent  for  child,  which  will  dare  all  and  do  all ; 
which  is  constantly  reasonable  and  thoughtful, 
and  in  which  there  is  never  a  selfish  thought.  The 
wife  may  "love"  her  husband  because  he  is  good 
to  her;  because  he  makes  it  easy  for  her ;  because 
he  is  considerate  of  her ;  because  he  is  generous 
with  her ;  because  he  is  an  ideal  to  her.  The  hus- 
band may  love  the  wife  for  reasons  that  are  akin 
to  her  reasons  for  loving  him.  But  the  love  of  a 


138  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

mother  for  her  childls  not  because  of  the  child's 
strength  or  power  to  help  her,  but  rather  because 
of  its  very  weakness  and  its  very  helplessness  and 
its  very  powerlessness.  Therefore,  to  me  the 
thought  has  often  come  that  love  is  a  growth 
passing,  after  a  stage  of  preparation,  through 
three  epochs :  the  epoch  of  preparation,  the  epoch 
of  passion,  the  epoch  of  understanding,  and  then, 
at  its  best,  spending  itself,  and  becoming  there- 
fore real,  on  what  it  produces. 

I  do  not  know  if  I  have  made  myself  clear  to 
you.  I  fear  I  have  not,  because  I  am  not  sure 
that  I  have  made  myself  clear  to  myself ;  for  the 
hardest  thing  that  one  can  do  is  to  express,  even 
to  oneself,  the  things  that  are  of  the  spirit  and 
the  soul,  and  true  love  is  of  the  spirit  and  the  soul. 

Feeling  as  I  do  about  this  supremely  impor- 
tant matter,  I  would  warn  you  to  mistrust  your- 
self;  for  youth  is  impressionable.  It  is  youth 
that  hurries  through  the  woods  to  gather  wild 
flowers,  while  age  only  walks  thoughtfully 
through  the  gardens.  A  baby  is  attracted  by  a 
shining  ornament  and  a  youth  is  attracted  by 
bright  eyes.  Both  may  be  fools  in  their  own  way. 
To  abandon  oneself  to  love  without  any  thought 
of  the  course  that  it  inevitably  must  take,  is  an 
act  of  folly.  But  you  say,  "  Perhaps  it  cannot  be 
helped?"  It  can  be  helped,  for  even  love  is  no 
excuse  to  lay  aside  reason  and  religion.  Religion 


LOVE  139 

says  that  love  is  placed  upon  earth  for  a  good 
purpose,  to  replenish  the  earth.  When  it  is  un- 
derstood that  this  is  the  purpose,  reason  steps  in 
and  then  love  will  go  to  the  great  goal  which  is  its 
best  and  purest,  to  the  foot  of  the  Throne. 


XIV 
THE  PLAIN  MAN 

SOME  people  have  been  born  to  the  purple;  but 
they  never  wore  it  as  if  it  fitted  them. 


THE  dress  of  a  man  or  woman  is  ugly  in  propor- 
tion as  it  gets  away  from  the  natural. 


SAINTS  are  not  exactly  different;  they  are  only 
right  and  normal. 


THE  PLAIN  MAN 

My  dear  Jack: 

For  common  sense,  I  commend  you  to  get  ac- 
quainted with  the  sayings  of  Abraham  Lincoln. 
Most  of  them  are  delightful;  some  of  them  I 
keep  with  me  always.  Lincoln  divides  the  human 
race  very  truly,  and  very  quaintly,  into  two  sec- 
tions, one  of  which,  the  larger,  comprises  the 
" plain"  people.  It  is  not  necessary  for  him  to 
label  the  rest.  "God,"  he  said,  "must  have  loved 
the  plain  people;  He  made  so  many  of  them." 
It  is  not  necessary  to  be  poor  to  be  enrolled  in 
the  ranks  of  the  plain  people.  There  are  many 
rich  men  who  never  had  the  desire  to  move  out 
of  the  class  of  plain  men.  Some  people  have 
been  born  to  the  purple,  but  they  never  wore  it 
as  if  it  fitted  them.  The  best  of  kings  have  re- 
mained "plain"  men.  Saint  Louis,  King  of 
France,  was  the  simplest  of  men.  The  most 
highly  educated  of  the  world  have  had  "plain" 
men  in  plenty  amongst  them.  This  letter  is  to 
counsel  you  not  even  to  attempt  to  be  anything 
but  a  "plain  man". 

It  is  time  we  stopped  using  the  word  "plain" 

143 


144  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

as  a  reproach.  It  is  true  that  to  be  plain  means 
to  be  common ;  but  it  is  not  true  that  to  be  com- 
mon means  to  be  ugly.  More  often  the  opposite 
is  true ;  for  that  which  is  plain  is  usually  well 
ordered,  and  beauty  is  essentially  an  attribute  of 
what  is  well  ordered — a  result  of  things  existing, 
or  being  placed,  so  as  to  conform  with  fixed  and 
proper  standards.  The  plain  things  are  usually 
the  very  beautiful  things. 

Contrary  to  the  ideas  of  many,  it  is  true  that 
one  must  be  a  plain  man  or  woman  to  be  beauti- 
ful. No  rouge  can  equal  the  tint  of  ordinary  red 
blood  showing  through  healthy  skin.  No  trim- 
ming of  the  hair  was  ever  half  so  beautiful  as 
unbound  tresses,  flowing  and  free.  Physical 
beauty  in  man  does  not  concern  itself  with  his 
gaudy  clothes.  What  ugliness  there  is  in  his 
form  is  accounted  for  by  what  is  abnormal  in  it. 

The  dress  of  a  man  or  woman  is  ugly  in  pro- 
portion as  it  gets  away  from  the  natural.  It  is 
natural  for  women  who  usually  stay  in  the  home 
to  throw  over  them  garments  made  with  little 
cutting,  falling  in  graceful  folds  about  them,  such 
as  the  dresses  and  cloaks  that  were  worn  by  the 
ancient  Celtic  and  British  women.  The  female 
form  lends  itself  to  this  graceful  draping,  and 
women  do  not  ordinarily  live  where  the  cold 
winds  buffet  and  chill  them.  As  the  fashion  in 
women's  dress  moves  away  from  this  simplicity 


THE  PLAIN  MAN  145 

and  plainness,  it  becomes  ugly,  because  it  offers 
the  abnormal  for  admiration.  Too  much  decora- 
tion succeeds  only  in  concealing  beauty.  On  a 
feast  day  the  artistic  Italian  may  tolerate  bunt- 
ing and  drapery  on  the  walls  of  St.  Peter's;  but 
he  would  not  like  St.  Peter's  were  the  draping 
and  bunting  to  be  left  there  permanently. 

The  plain  man  or  woman  thinks  plain,  normal 
thoughts.  The  cultivated  orchard  produces  large, 
ruddy  and  beautiful  apples,  but  such  apples  are 
only  normal.  They  were  produced  by  getting 
back  to  the  rule  and  away  from  the  exception. 
Wormy  apples  are  the  exception.  Farmers  who 
habitually  have  been  neglecting  their  orchards 
have  become  accustomed  to  exceptions.  But  the 
normal  apple,  the  plain  apple,  is  always  the 
beautiful  one. 

To  live  a  plain  life  fits  the  plain  man  and 
woman,  and  keeps  them  plain.  To  live  otherwise 
spoils  the  lines  of  the  figure,  and  makes  them 
abnormal  and  ugly.  Obesity  is  a  sign  of  overeat- 
ing or  disease.  To  eat  when  hungry,  to  drink 
when  thirsty,  to  rest  when  tired,  these  are  plain 
actions  that  produce  results  in  physical  beauty. 
To  feed  the  soul  as  honestly  with  plain  spiritual 
food  as  the  body  is  fed  with  what  it  needs,  is  to 
produce  the  normal  goodness,  the  soul's  natural 
and  beautiful  state.  Saints  are  not  exactly  dif- 
ferent; they  are  only  right  and  normal 


146  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

It  is  not  remarkable  that  he  who  lives  in  a 
palace  and  eats  nightingales'  tongues  should  be 
forced  sometimes  to  fly  to  a  hut  in  the  woods  or 
on  the  shore,  and  eat  only  what  he  can  fish  or 
shoot.  His  action  is  the  natural  protest  of  the 
plain  man  which  the  palace  is  killing  in  him, 
against  the  ugliness  of  his  condition.  It  is  a 
temporary  assumption  of  control  by  the  normal, 
and  a  temporary  defeat  for  the  ugly. 

It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  plain  man 
is  loved.  We  shiver  and  frown  at  his  opposite, 
when  we  shiver  and  frown  at  the  dandy  or  the 
ragamuffin.  We  like  the  middle  because  it  is  the 
normal.  We  honor  it  even  without  noticing  that 
we  do  so.  The  -things  we  notice  are  often  the 
things  which  disgust  us ;  and  sometimes  the  dis- 
gust is  at  ourselves,  because  we  have  noticed,  or 
were  enticed  by  them.  The  plain  man  is  the 
world's  man;  so  he  always  has  been;  but  he 
also  and  always  has  been  God's  man;  for  what 
God  hates  in  the  world  is  what  the  world  has 
done  against  His  Will  with  itself  and 'with  His 
children.  What  God  made  was  and  is  good.  He 
loves  the  good.  Yes!  He  loves  the  plain  man 
as  Lincoln  said  He  did ;  for  thus  He  made  him, 
and  thus  He  wills  he  should  remain. 


XV 

THE  ENTHUSIAST 

BY  the  Enthusiast  have  nations  been  born  and  by 
his  hand  have  tyrants  died.  He  has  deluged  the 
world  with  blood ;  but  he  has  planted  and  watered 
the  peace  that  gives  life  and  plenty.  He  has  done 
evil ;  but,  too,  he  has  loved  justice.  His  name  is  a 
curse;  but  it  has  also  been  honored  as  a  blessing. 
...  He  has  crushed  out  the  name  of  God,  yet  he 
has  paused  again  to  invoke  it. 


THE  ENTHUSIAST 

My  dear  Jack: 

Last  night  you  said  something  about  "  Enthu- 
siasm for  one's  work",  and  being  an  " Enthusi- 
ast". It  set  me  thinking.  I  have  heard  so  many 
things  of  the  kind  that  I  really  must  tell  you 
today  what  I  think  of  the  Enthusiast ;  for  I  am 
his  friend  and  admirer,  but  not  the  defender  of 
his  faults.  You  can  only  copy  him  if  you  are  a 
genius.  If  you  are  not  that,  you  are,  however, 
in  the  happy  position  of  being  able  to  work  up 
to  the  good  and  leave  the  bad  alone. 

Who  is  the  Enthusiast?  He  is  the  conqueror 
and  the  king,  the  leader  in  every  movement, 
whether  good  or  bad,  the  blazer  of  every  trail, 
the  pathfinder  into  every  jungle.  His  keel  has 
furrowed  the  unknown  seas,  his  alpenstock  has 
marked  the  sides  of  every  mountain  and  glacier, 
his  spade  has  dug  deepest  into  the  earth,  his  mind 
has  tried  to  encompass  every  problem,  his  zeal 
has  converted  millions  to  truth  or  perverted  mil- 
lions to  error.  Today  he  soars  on  wings  into  the 
air,  seeking  new  outlets  to  his  unquenchable  fury 
of  action.  He  has  done  all  of  the  world's  things 

149 


150  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

yet  done  that  were  worth  doing.  He  is  Progress 
personified. 

Yet,  over  the  desert  his  bones  have  whitened. 
The  kindly  moss  has  covered  his  dead  body  in  the 
great  forests,  to  hide  the  ugliness  of  its  decay. 
The  sea  gives  up  neither  its  treasures  nor  its  dead 
— so  he  is  sleeping  forever  in  the  peaceful  depths. 
He  has  encrimsoned  the  world's  battlefields,  and 
has  found  graves  deep  down  where  men  take  gold 
and  silver  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth.  Yet  he 
lives  and  never  learns.  It  is  well  it  should  be  so. 
Progress  would  cease  were  he  to  think  too  deeply 
and  learn  too  much  from  what  he  has  suffered. 

By  the  Enthusiast  have  nations  been  born  and 
by  his  hand  have  tyrants  died.  He  has  deluged 
the  world  with  blood;  but  has  planted  and  wa- 
tered the  peace  that  gives  life  and  plenty.  He  has 
done  evil;  but,  too,  he  has  loved  justice.  His 
name  is  a  curse ;  but  it  has  also  been  honored  as 
a  blessing.  They  have  hanged  him  in  chains  to 
the  gallows;  and  they  have  wept  and  would  not 
be  consoled,  because  they  had  led  him  forth  to 
die.  Yet  he  has  often  won  more  in  dying  thus 
than  life  could  have  given  him.  His  eye  has 
dropped  tears  for  misery  and  has  shot  fires  of  joy 
for  destruction.  He  burned  the  precious  books  of 
Alexandria,  but  gathered  the  Vatican's  treasures 
of  literature  and  art.  He  has  swept  whole  tribes 
from  a  continent,  but  behold  that  continent  be- 


THE  ENTHUSIAST  151 

comes  a  new  world  to  beckon  the  old  onward  and 
upward  to  the  heights  of  achievement.  He  has 
crushed  out  the  name  of  God,  yet  has  he  paused 
again  to  invoke  it. 

Of  all  men  he  is  the  most  loved  and  the  most 
hated ;  but  he  is  hated  of tener  than  he  is  loved,  for 
the  world  must  forget  much  about  him  to  love  him 
at  all ;  must  forget  especially  that  he  trampled  on 
some  of  its  cherished  ideals.  While  he  lives  the 
Enthusiast  must  be  disliked,  because  he  is,  of 
necessity,  both  thoughtless  and  selfish.  He  thinks 
too  deeply  of  his  work  to  realize  his  own  lack  of 
thought  for  others.  He  is  too  bound  up  with  the 
problems  that  fill  his  own  brain,  to  worry  about 
either  the  problems  or  the  cares  of  his  neighbors. 
Therefore  does  the  world  think  him  selfish.  But 
he  is  ultimately  neither  thoughtless  nor  selfish. 
He  has  the  record  of  his  world  benefactions  for 
centuries,  to  prove  his  love  for  his  kind ;  and  his 
record  of  unceasing  suffering  and  pain,  extend- 
ing just  as  far  back  into  history,  to  prove  his 
disinterestedness. 

It  has  been  charged  that  the  Enthusiast  has 
been  loyal  only  to  his  own  dreams.  But  one  can- 
not have  a  dream  at  all,  without  the  substantial 
upon  which  to  base  it.  The  baby's  dreams  are  of 
the  smiles  it  has  seen  on  mother's  face,  which 
is  his  entire  universe;  but  these  it  has  actually 
seen.  The  Enthusiast  has  seen  his  world,  has  had 


152  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

his  impressions,  has  shaped  his  thoughts.  It  is 
on  these  his  dreams  are  founded  and  his  ends 
directed.  He  is  loyal  to  the  great  things. 

The  Enthusiast  is  not  alone  a  dreamer.  He  is 
the  world  worker,  who  labors  not  for  pay,  but  for 
the  very  love  of  it.  Money  could  never  have  made 
a  Columbus,  and  only  a  Columbus  could  have  dis- 
covered a  continent.  Civilization  would  be  with- 
out masterpieces  and  mastermen  if  the  Enthusi- 
ast were  bound  by  the  laws  of  labor  unions.  His 
work  sets  itself  no  time  limit  and  permits  none 
to  be  set  for  it.  His  strength  comes  and  goes.  It 
is  fed  by  fires  from  the  soul  that  burn  only  fit- 
fully. He  works  while  they  burn  and  then  he 
produces.  He  stops  when  the  fires  smoulder. 
His  dreams  are  the  fires  which  give  him  strength 
for  action. 

The  real  Enthusiast  belongs  to  no  nation,  but 
to  all  nations,  since  his  work  is  for  all.  The  good 
he  does,  the  discoveries  he  makes,  the  evil  he 
causes,  all  belong  to  the  world  at  large,  which 
cannot  avoid  the  consequence  of  having  produced 
him,  whether  good  or  bad.  The  disgrace  of  a 
Robespierre  belongs  to  France,  but  the  Revolu- 
tion he  fostered  shed  the  world's  blood  and  is  still 
the  world's  problem.  Voltaire  went  farther  than 
Sans  Souci  and  Frederick  the  Great  with  his  cyn- 
ical friendship.  The  circles  shot  out  by  his  fall 
into  the  waters  of  doubt  have  long  ago  touched 


THE  ENTHUSIAST  153 

even  the  Arctic.  Michelangelo's  genius  is  not 
only  the  adornment  of  Italy,  but  the  inspiration 
of  all  nations.  O'Connell  liberated  two  peoples: 
his  own  from  injustice;  and  the  enemies  of  his 
own  from  the  slavery  of  being  tyrants. 

The  Enthusiast  cannot  die  while  the  earth 
lives;  since  every  generation  must  have  him  to 
depend  upon  for  the  step  in  advance  which  God 
seems  to  destine  each  generation  to  take. 

To  have  " Enthusiasm  for  one's  work"  is  good : 
but  it  is  not  pleasant  to  be  a  real  Enthusiast.  It 
is  a  pain. 


XVI 
THE  CONSERVATIVE 

THE  Conservative  is  not  usually  the  one  who  pro- 
duces great  results ;  but  he  is  nevertheless  the  one 
who  enables  others  to  produce  them. 


THE  Conservative  knows  men  better  than  they 
know   themselves,   and  loves   them   more   wisely. 


THE  CONSERVATIVE 

My  dear  Jack: 

I  had  to  smile  when  Billy  said  he  was  a  "  liber- 
tine". Billy  does  not  know  what  " libertine" 
means.  If  he  had  known  he  would  have  hesi- 
tated about  claiming  such  a  title.  Billy  meant  to 
say  that  he  was  a  " liberal", — in  things  political. 
He  is;  but  Billy  is  a  " liberal"  in  other  things 
as  well.  So  far  as  the  "other  things",  at  least, 
are  concerned,  so  much  the  worse  for  Billy. 
Don't  mistake  my  meaning:  I  am  not  opposed  to 
all  liberalism;  only  to  the  dangerous  kind  that 
makes  liberalism  an  engine  of  destruction.  There 
is  a  true  and  a  false  liberalism.  That  which 
takes  no  heed  of  eternal  principles  is  the  false 
kind. 

Liberalism  is  busy  today  flinging  bricks  at  the 
Conservative.  He  deserves  a  few  of  them,  but 
not  all.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  deserves  more 
bouquets  than  bricks.  He  has  done  his  work 
better  than  men  realize.  The  Conservative  is  not 
usually  the  one  who  produces  great  results,  but 
he  is  nevertheless  the  one  who  enables  others  to 
produce  them.  He  is  the  watchman  who  guards 

157 


158  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

the  foundation  of  the  building ;  the  treasurer  of 
all  the  real  riches  gathered  in  bygone  ages,  and 
which,  wisely  used,  give  new  riches  to  the  pres- 
ent, and  will  give  them  also  to  the  future.  He 
is  the  keeper  of  the  granary  wrherein  lie  stored 
the  seeds  from  which  the  world's  next  crop  of 
ideas,  inventions  and  facts  will  spring.  He  is  the 
unappreciated  Joseph  to  thousands  of  spend- 
thrift Pharaohs ;  but  he  wears  no  outward  crown 
in  proof  of  it,  and  holds  no  scepter  of  public 
honor.  He  is  the  power  behind  every  throne  that 
is  firm  upon  its  base.  He  is  the  port  of  refuge 
for  every  storm-driven  ship.  Without  him  there 
could  be  no  progress ;  because  there  would  be  no 
tools  preserved  with  which  to  labor,  no  principles 
upon  which  to  rest,  no  weapons  with  which  to 
fight  truth's  battles.  The  armories  and  maga- 
zines of  intellectual  warfare  are  in  his  care;  the 
fact  that  he  hesitates  and  considers  long  before 
he  lends  the  keys,  is  rather  a  proof  of  his  sagacity 
than  a  reproach  to  his  slowness.  It  is  well  for  the 
world  that  the  Conservative  is  thus  hard  to  con- 
vince and  thus  slow  to  act.  He  has  been,  and  is, 
largely  responsible  for  a  diminishing  in  the 
world's  stock  of  regrets.  He  scarcely  knows  the 
meaning  of  "it  might  have  been";  and  for  him 
there  is  no  Past  Conditional  tense.  He  alone  can 
say,  "it  was";  but  he  alone  never  says,  except  of 
God,  "it  will  be". 


THE  CONSERVATIVE  159 

It  is  the  Conservative  who  comes  upon  the  bat- 
tlefield when  the  fight  is  done,  and  the  bodies  of 
the  rash  lie  with  glassy  eyes  uplifted  to  the  unre- 
lenting heavens.  He  it  is  who  gathers  up  all  that 
is  useful  for  another  fight,  and  stores  it  away 
until  it  is  needed.  It  is  he  who  goes  to  the  council 
tent,  and  there  takes  the  fruits  of  victory  or 
defeat.  It  is  he  who  treasures  the  lessons, 
whether  they  be  in  the  form  of  tests  of  new  ex- 
plosives, the  folly  of  entering  into  a  war  unpre- 
pared, or  the  crime  of  entering  into  it  at  all. 
When  others  think  that  all  is  lost,  he  quietly  has 
laid  away  some  spoils  at  least;  and  knows  that 
even  out  of  a  rout  something  always  can  be 
gained.  Though  he  did  not  face  battle,  yet  he 
alone  faces  its  consequences — more  deadly  oft- 
times  than  the  fight  itself. 

The  Conservative  is  thought  to  be  the  smallest 
and  narrowest  of  men.  It  is  partially  true,  but 
in  his  seeming  defects  are  his  uses  and  his  victo- 
ries. He  is  small,  but  one  sees  better  from  the 
small  end  of  a  telescope.  He  is  narrow,  but  the 
path  of  Horatius  to  glory  was  a  bridge  only  a 
few  feet  wide.  He  does  look  backward,  but  be- 
hind are  the  things  that  justify  looking  ahead. 
His  foresight  is  not  great,  but  it  is  the  careful 
start  that  makes  a  glorious  finish  possible. 

It  is  not  a  reproach  to  the  Church  that  in  her 
fold  the  Conservative  reigns  supreme.  Cen- 


160  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

turies  have  tried  to  oust  him  from  this  strong- 
hold, but  he  has  beaten  the  centuries.  So  the 
Present  and  Future  do  not  refuse  an  admiring 
salute  with  the  sword,  before  they  join  the  Past 
in  thrusting  at  him.  But  they  will  thrust  in  vain, 
for  he  knows  his  ground.  He  has  lived  to  see  and 
study  men,  and  he  has  not  learned  to  scorn  but  to 
love  them.  He  knows  them  better  than  they 
know  themselves,  and  loves  them  more  wisely. 
He  watches  their  weaknesses,  while  noting  their 
enthusiasms ;  and  from  both  he  draws  the  good, 
and  thus  wisely  saves  the  future  of  the  race. 
He  has  seen  centuries  which  worshipped  many 
gods  and  all  of  them  shameless ;  but  he  has  man- 
aged to  keep  the  fire  alight  on  the  altar  of  the 
One  who  alone  is  Truth.  He  has  witnessed 
past  centuries  drop  their  books — sacred  and  pro- 
fane— to  grasp  the  sword  and  couch  the  lance. 
But  he  gathered  up  and  kept  the  books — Bible 
and  classics.  We  owe  their  preservation  to  him. 
He  saw  Art  fall  into  the  dust  to  die,  but  he 
quietly  supplied  the  materials  for  its  revival. 
He  heard  a  world  cease  to  sing,  but  saved  melo- 
dies that  the  world  might  sing  again.  These 
and  all  else  that  he  has  saved  may  be  arrayed 
against  him,  but  he  understands  and  hugs  his 
treasures  closer,  while  watching  for  what  he 
can  add  to  them  from  the  new  and  more  splen- 


THE  CONSERVATIVE  161 

did  mistakes  of  this  new  and  more  splendid 
present. 

The  century  is  learning  fast  while  the  treasures 
of  the  Conservative  grow  apace.  What  shall  the 
future  say  of  him  ?  It  will  speak  of  him  in  terms 
of  praise,  but  it  will  speak  as  of  one  dead.  It 
will  enshrine  his  memory,  but  enshrine  it  only 
as  a  memory.  It  will  build  a  mighty  mausoleum 
to  him,  really  believing  that  he  lies  beneath  it. 
It  will  sing  of  him,  imagining  that  the  song  is  a 
threnody.  It  will  say  that,  under  God,  Religion 
owes  to  him  its  purity,  Science  its  discoveries, 
Music  its  inspiration,  Art  its  models,  and  Oratory 
its  ancient  fire ;  all  the  while  thinking  of  him  as 
one  of  the  great  departed.  But  he  will  not  be 
dead  even  when  the  world  thinks  that  the  millen- 
nium has  come.  The  millennium  will  yet  be  far 
away — as  far  as  Heaven,  which  is  where  the 
Gate  of  Death  ends  the  Long  Road.  Yes,  the 
Conservative  shall  always  be  living,  and  the  very 
praise  the  Future  will  unite  to  give  him,  shall  be 
but  a  new  form  of  the  old  battle  he  has  always 
fought,  and  which  he  must  fight  to  the  end ;  while 
the  world  shall  always  remain  his  servant,  and 
all  ages  his  debtor. 


XVII 
CRITICISM 

MILD  and  pleasant  criticisms  might  accomplish 
something;  but  not  enough  to  justify  their  exist- 
ence. 

THE  gossiping  neighbors  of  a  country  village  have 
a  great  deal  more  to  do  with  keeping  the  village 
highly  moral,  and  filling  the  churches  on  Sunday, 
than  they  get  credit  for. 


THE  less  criticism  you  get  the  harder  will  be  your 
road  to  success. 


CRITICISM 
My  dear  Jack: 

The  most  irritating  thing  in  the  world  is  a 
toothache;  but  I  saved  nearly  all  my  teeth  by 
heeding  the  first  twinging  warning  of  that  kind. 
The  only  tooth  I  lost  forever  went  because  I  too 
long  neglected  such  a  warning,  using  palliatives 
for  the  pain  rather  than  a  prompt  remedy 
for  the  disorder  that  caused  it.  Criticisms  are 
like  toothaches — unpleasant,  even  painful;  irri- 
tating, even  maddening;  but  they  help  us  and 
they  help  us  very  materially.  If  there  possibly 
could  be  such  a  thing  as  a  pleasant  toothache, 
I  think  that  the  object  of  the  infliction  could 
not  be  attained.  It  is  only  natural  that  we 
should  ask  why  a  warning  of  decay  might  not 
be  given  without  the  pain;  but  would  we  heed 
such  a  warning  ?  It  usually  takes  a  hard-grip- 
ping toothache  to  drive  us  to  the  dentist's  chair, 
where  we  should  have  gone  months  before.  It 
is  the  same  way  with  criticisms.  There  are  no 
pleasant  ones,  and  I  am  glad  of  it,  though  I  have 
suffered  my  share  of  the  pain  of  them.  Mild 
and  pleasant  criticisms  might  accomplish  some- 
thing, but  not  enough  to  justify  their  existence. 

165 


166  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

There  are,  however,  toothaches  of  all  degrees 
of  painf ulness ;  and  there  are  critics  of  the  same 
kind.  Some  critics  are  vicious ;  some  are  gentle. 
Both  have  their  uses.  They  all  make  us  stop 
and  think.  If  there  were  no  critics  in  the  world, 
there  would  be  little,  if  any,  progress ;  and  very 
much  sin.  The  gossiping  neighbors  of  a  country 
village  have  a  great  deal  more  to  do  with  keep- 
ing the  village  highly  moral,  and  filling  the 
churches  on  Sunday,  than  they  really  get  credit 
for ;  and,  while  gossiping  hurts  the  gossiper,  it 
is  one  of  those  evils  which  God  confounds  by 
drawing  good  out  of  them.  More  than  once  the 
fear  of  criticism  has  kept  young  people  from 
rushing  into  danger.  It  is  wise  always  to  be  on 
the  alert  to  catch  every  breath  of  criticism  di- 
rected your  way,  because  it  is  always  well  to  see 
yourself  as  other  people  see  you. 

The  right  way  to  receive  criticism  is  as  you 
receive  a  toothache — suffer  it,  but  do  not  suffer 
it  any  longer  than  you  have  to.  Remove  the 
cause,  if  you  can,  and  remove  it  quickly;  thus 
will  you  draw  your  good  out  of  the  evil.  As  a 
man  rarely  thinks  of  a  toothache  after  it  ends, 
in  the  joy  of  having  gotten  rid  of  it,  so  hasten 
yourself  to  forget  criticism  and  the  critic,  that 
you  may  not  lose  the  good  both  have  done  you. 

I  counseled  you  to  be  sensitive  to  criticism; 
but  what  I  meant,  was  to  make  only  your  ears 


CRITICISM  167 

sensitive  to  it.  I  did  not  mean  that  you  should 
make  your  heart  so.  Steel  yourself  against  crit- 
icism. Be  prepared  to  turn  it  into  an  advantage, 
but  never  let  it  make  you  bitter ;  and,  above  all, 
never  let  it  make  you  revengeful.  Critics  are 
not  always  enemies ;  but  much  that  I  said  of  the 
critic  applies  to  the  enemy.  A  mean  critic  is 
not  worth  being  revenged  upon.  The  critic  who 
is  not  mean  is  usually  quite  honest  and  worth 
attention.  One  of  the  differences  between  criti- 
cisms and  toothaches  lies  in  the  fact  that  we 
ought,  within  reason,  to  go  out  looking  for  criti- 
cisms. No  man  can  be  successful  without  his 
critics ;  and  therefore  even  the  saints  had  them. 
No  one  profited  more  by  criticisms  than  did 
these  saints.  Your  school  days  were  made  up 
of  hour  after  hour  of  criticism.  Your  business 
career  will  be  the  same.  You  will  be  criticised 
until  the  day  you  die.  The  less  criticism  you  get, 
the  harder  will  be  your  road  to  success. 

But  fear  much  to  criticise  others.  You  may 
get  yourself  into  the  position  of  being  hardened 
to  criticism,  and  even  of  welcoming  it;  but  do 
not  presume  that  others  will  have  been  success- 
ful in  like  manner.  The  average  man  does  not 
take  kindly  to  criticism ;  therefore,  for  your  own 
personal  comfort,  if  for  no  other  reason,  give 
your  opinion  when  it  is  asked  and  not  before. 

I  am  afraid  that  the  most  sensitive  people  to 


168  LETTERS  TO  rJACK 

criticism  are  Catholics.  The  reasons  for  this  are 
many,  but  one  in  particular :  Catholics  know  the 
perfection  of  the  divine  side  of  the  Church,  and 
instinctively  conclude  that  all  criticism  of  her 
is  unfounded.  They  forget  that  there  is  a  human 
side  to  the  Church  as  well  as  a  divine  side,  and 
that  the  human  side  needs  criticism.  This,  our 
peculiar  sensitiveness,  extends  to  everything  that 
is  Catholic.  Taught  by  bitter  experience,  we 
are  always  looking  for  insults;  and  we  conse- 
quently often  imagine  them  where  there  are  none. 
We  too  frequently  fail  to  allow  for  inherited 
prejudices,  and  above  all  for  a  very  natural 
frailty  in  ourselves — the  frailty  that  comes  out 
of  our  very  strength.  A  man  who  has  outstand- 
ing ability  above  all  other  men  in  some  branch 
of  endeavor,  is  likely  to  think  that  he  cannot  be 
very  weak  in  anything.  For  example,  an  ex- 
tremely wealthy  man  is  a  miracle  if  he  recog- 
nizes his  own  follies.  He  is  flattered  and  fawned 
upon  until  he  thinks  he  is  a  demigod.  It  is  easy 
then  for  the  astute  time-server  to  catch  him  on 
the  weak  side;  to  the  time-server's  gain.  The 
trouble  is  that  the  rich  man  has  been  ignoring 
criticisms,  or  has  bought  off  his  critics.  Catholics 
are  very  much  like  that.  The  very  perfection 
of  the  divine  side  of  the  Church  is  their  weak- 
ness in  the  face  of  criticisms  of  the  human  side. 
It  is  no  attack  against  our  faith,  for  example, 


CRITICISM  169 

to  have  the  flaws  in  our  educational  system 
pointed  out.  There  is  really  no  reason  why  we 
should  be  sensitive  if  we  are  told  of  lapses  in 
the  conduct  of  some  individuals,  or  body  of  them. 
It  does  not  really  hurt  us  if  we  are  truthfully 
told  that  our  social  works  are  too  much  neglected. 
We  ought  to  listen  to  and  profit  by  these  things. 
A  professor  of  Sociology  told  me  a  few  days  ago, 
that  it  is  refreshing  to  meet  a  lot  of  non-Catholic 
social  workers  at  gatherings  where  all  are 
brought  together  for  discussion.  "They  go  at 
each  other  hammer  and  tongs,"  he  said.  "They 
attack,  defend  and  attack  again.  I  never  enjoy 
myself  so  much  as  at  one  of  these  meetings.  Why 
can't  we  do  it?  It  would  benefit  us."  The  rea- 
son we  can't  do  it  is  because  we  are  too  sensitive 
to  criticism.  We  have  gotten  into  the  habit  of 
defending  the  Church  at  all  risks,  and  doing  it 
at  prices  we  cannot  afford  to  pay.  Let  us  not 
be  too  sensitive  to  such  criticisms.  After  all,  we 
must  see  our  faults  in  order  to  correct  them. 

Though  I  know  that,  in  the  majority  of  cases, 
personal  criticisms  injure  the  one  who  makes 
them,  and  benefit  the  one  who  receives  them, 
nevertheless  I  say :  God  bless  the  critics.  They 
stimulate  enough  to  keep  us  moving  onward  and 
upward.  They  impede  just  enough  to  prevent 
our  speeding  too  fast.  They  irritate  just  enough 
to  make  us  careful.  They  sting  just  enough  to 


170  LETTERS  TO  rJACK 

make  us  watchful.  They  are  a  constant  invita- 
tion to  the  practise  of  humility,  and  a  consequent 
antidote  to  pride.  Cherish  your  critics — and  to 
the  same  degree  that  I  advised  you  to  cherish 
your  enemies. 


XVIII 
HATRED 

WHAT  the  confusion  of  tongues  did  in  scattering 
humanity,  the  gospel  of  hatred  would  have  done 
later;  but  in  blood  and  tears,  and  with  the  sacri- 
fice of  thousands. 

No  reputation  is  fortified  against  hatred,  and  no 
personal  worth  can  save  entirely  from  its  venom. 


IF  you  must  hate,  then  hate  hatred. 


HATRED 
My  dear  Jack: 

The  chum  you  brought  to  dinner  last  Sunday 
said  that  he  "just  hated"  an  old  friend  of  his 
because  he  thought  he  had  done  him  a  wrong.  If 
you  love  your  chum  show  him  this  letter ;  and  if 
you  love  yourself  read  it  carefully  and  take  its 
counsels  to  heart. 

The  Gospel  of  Christ  is  a  gospel  of  love.  It 
is  an  outspoken  gospel,  since  it  has  been  preached 
everywhere.  But  there  is  another  gospel.  It  is 
the  gospel  of  evil,  that  I  call  the  gospel  of  hatred. 
It  is  a  gospel  of  silence,  for  it  is  guarded  in  the 
heart  rather  than  spoken  with  the  lips, — a  gospel 
which  too  many  accept,  knowing  what  it  is ;  yet 
which  many  accept,  too,  without  knowing.  Those 
who  accept  it  most  freely  are  those  most  anx- 
ious to  tell  themselves  that  they  repudiate  it. 

The  gospel  of  hatred  has  its  place  in  the  history 
of  mankind.  It  was  born  in  the  first  generation 
of  the  race,  but  with  Cain,  not  with  Adam.  Fallen 
as  was  the  first  man,  he  could  not  fall  so  far  as 
that,  since  he  could  not  so  completely  forget  the 
direct  Divine  handiwork  in  him.  But  the  world 
needed  only  two  additions  to  its  population  to 

173 


174  LETTERS  TO  2ACK 

bring  the  gospel  of  hatred  to  the  earth:  one  to 
excel,  and  one  to  realize  that  he  had  been  excelled. 
It  is  a  testimony  to  the  power  of  the  gospel  of 
hatred  that  its  first  fruit  on  earth  was  murder,  in 
one  of  murder's  vilest  forms, — fratricide. 

Once  born,  the  gospel  of  hatred  lived  on  the 
rivalries  of  men  who  battled  for  gain,  and  the 
vanities  of  women  who  battled  to  please  the  win- 
ner. It  spread  like  a  pestilence  over  the  earth, 
so  that  not  even  a  deluge  could  drown  it.  It 
entered  the  Ark  with  Noah's  sons,  and  came  out 
of  it,  like  the  other  beasts,  on  Ararat.  What  the 
confusion  of  tongues  did  in  scattering  humanity, 
the  gospel  of  hatred  would  have  done  later,  but  in 
blood  and  tears,  and  the  sacrifice  of  thousands. 
It  was  the  gospel  that  swept  Troy  to  ruin;  but 
fastened  itself  firmly  on  the  necks  of  her  con- 
querors to  their  own  ruin  later  on.  It  marched 
with  Sesostris  out  of  Egypt  and  Alexander  out 
of  Macedonia.  It  mixed  for  Socrates  his  cup  of 
poison,  and  stuck  a  needle  through  the  once  elo- 
quent tongue  of  the  dead  Cicero.  It  stabbed 
Caesar  in  irony  before  Pompey 's  Statue ;  burned 
Rome,  under  its  devotee,  Nero ;  and  then  extin- 
guished the  Ejmpire  in  the  fury  of  northern 
revenge. 

The  gospel  of  hatred  has  filled  the  army  of 
martyrs.  It  gathered  the  stones  that  killed  Ste- 
phen, beheaded  Paul  at  the  Three  Fountains,  and 


HATRED  175 

crucified  Peter  on  the  Capitolian  Hill.  It 
dragged  Joan  of  Arc,  innocent,  pure  and  sweet 
as  a  lily,  to  the  fire  lighted  in  Rouen's  market 
place,  and  sounded  the  depths  of  injustice  in  the 
execution  of  More  on  Tower  Hill.  Why  not,  when 
it  had  spit  upon  Christ  in  the  Court  of  Caiphas, 
loaded  Him  with  stripes  and  buffets  and  a  Cross, 
and  let  Calvary  stand  in  history  as  a  never-to-be- 
forgotten  name  for  all  that  human  malignity 
could  do? 

The  gospel  of  hatred,  once  accepted,  degrades 
man  to  the  level  of  the  brute.  One  by  one,  it 
quenches  in  him  every  generous  thought  and  im- 
pulse and  renders  barren  that  spot  in  his  soul 
whereon  they  grew.  It  hardens  hearts  against 
the  appeal  of  affliction  and  steels  them  against 
the  ecstasy  of  pure  Iov6.  It  blinds  the  eyes  to 
virtue  and  goodness,  but  opens  them  wide  to  all 
that  is  ugly  and  full  of  sin.  It  closes  the  ears  to 
the  call  of  mercy,  but  makes  them  keen  for  the 
cry  of  revenge.  It  shuts  the  hand  tight  over  the 
coin  of  charity,  but  stretches  it  out  to  pay  for 
acts  of  plunder  and  murder.  In  the  poor,  it 
makes  poverty  sordid  and  miserable.  In  the  rich, 
it  cultivates  flaunting  show,  as  naked  before  God 
as  it  is  lavish  before  men. 

In  the  wake  of  the  gospel  of  hatred  follows 
blind  injustice,  against  which  there  is  neither 
appeal  nor  hope  in  this  world.  No  reputation  is 


176  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

fortified  against  it,  and  no  personal  worth  can 
save  entirely  from  its  venom.  The  king  has  been 
dragged  from  the  throne  to  the  headsman's  block 
at  its  order.  The  legislator  has  felt  the  assassin's 
steel  in  his  breast,  and  knew  that  the  gospel  of 
hatred  had  inspired  his  killing.  But  the  peasant, 
also,  has  been  driven  from  his  cabin,  to  be  lashed 
to  death  before  his  own  children;  while  babies 
have  been  carried  on  the  points  of  bayonets,  be- 
cause men  having  power  had  accepted  this  gospel 
of  horror.  It  was  the  gospel  of  hatred  that  Ma- 
dame Roland  should  have  blamed  on  the  scaffold, 
even  though  the  crime  was  done  "in  liberty's 
name". 

To  civil  and  religious  liberty  no  enemy  has  been 
so  strong,  because  no  enemy  is  so  insidious.  The 
gospel  of  hatred  creeps  almost  at  once  into  the 
heart  of  the  conqueror  toward  the  conquered, 
whispering  that  he  himself  is  of  superior  clay, 
and  the  subdued  but  the  dust  beneath  his  feet. 
Thus  does  it  add  venom  to  the  sting  of  the  lash 
and  weight  to  the  shackles. 

In  a  nation  the  gospel  of  hatred  divides  citizens 
so  that,  when  Power  falls  to  one  side  it  sends 
hatred  to  the  other;  but  always  double  hatred 
from  those  who  rule  to  those  who  are  ruled.  Self 
interest  is  then  its  spouse  and  tyranny  its 
offspring. 

But  greatest  of  all  is  the  evil  which  follows  the 


HATRED  177 

acceptance  of  the  gospel  of  hatred  amongst 
friends,  for  it  kills  all  friendship.  It  is  most  ma- 
lignant toward  those  who  have  shown  the  greatest 
generosity.  By  preference,  it  strikes  those  who 
should  be  loved  most,  and  pursues  most  relent- 
lessly those  who  have  been  kindest. 

The  gospel  of  hatred  has  covered  the  world 
with  destruction  and  has  buried  millions,  inno- 
cent and  guilty,  in  the  ruins.  It  stands  as  the 
most  convincing  of  all  arguments  for  an  Eternal 
Justice;  because  wrongs  cannot  always  go  un- 
righted;  and  the  sods  of  the  grave,  alas!  cover 
millions  of  wrongs  that  call  for  a  righting  beyond 
the  power  of  men. 

For  God's  dear  sake,  never  say  that  you  hate 
anybody.  Fear  lest  every  little  dislike  is  the  be- 
ginning of  a  hatred.  If  you  must  hate,  then  hate 
hatred.  It  and  sin  are  the  only  things  you  may 
hate  with  safety. 


XIX 

SILENCE 

AN  appearance  of  gravity  and  wisdom  easily 
deceives  and  easily  fastens  incompetence  to  high 
places. 


THE  Oracles  of  Apollo  were  wisest  in  their  silence ; 
and  their  race  has  not  yet  passed  from  the  earth. 


MOST  of  the  really  wise  silent  men  have  been  taken 
for  fools;  and  most  of  the  silent  fools  have  been 
taken  for  wise  men. 


SILENCE 
My  dear  Jack: 

You  remember  that  a  few  evenings  ago  you 
met  three  gentlemen  in  my  company.  On  the 
way  home  you  remarked  about  one  of  them: 
"He  must  be  a  smart  man,  because  he  knows  how 
to  keep  his  mouth  shut."  The  remark  was 
rather  commonplace,  for  nine  out  of  every  ten 
would  have  made  it,  since  the  gentleman  in  ques- 
tion looked  wise  and  said  nothing  for  the  greater 
part  of  the  evening.  You  must  have  noticed, 
however,  that,  at  one  period  of  the  conversation, 
he  broke  loose  and  talked  on  a  subject  that  had 
very  little  to  do  with  the  general  trend  of  inter- 
est. Perhaps  you  did  not  also  notice  that  he  was 
the  one  who  dragged  that  subject  in,  literally  by 
the  heels.  He  was  very  brilliant  while  he  held 
us  to  that  topic,  but  when  it  was  exhausted,  he 
again  relapsed  into  silence  and  resumed  his  ap- 
pearance of  deep  thought. 

I  quite  agree  with  your  idea  regarding  some 
silent  men,  but  I  do  not  believe  that  silence  always 
indicates  learning  or  ability.  If  I  had  any  right 
to  judge  the  gentleman  whom  you  admired, 
merely  by  what  I  saw  and  heard  of  him  a  few 

181 


182  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

evenings  ago,  I  would  be  inclined  to  say  that  he 
is  one  of  a  class  smart  enough  to  know  the  value 
of  silence,  and  to  assume  it  for  effect  or  a  lack 
of  knowledge.  An  appearance  of  gravity  and 
wisdom  easily  deceives  and  easily  fastens  incom- 
petence to  high  places.  There  are  today,  as  there 
have  been  in  the  past,  many  silent  fools  who  gov- 
ern wise  men,  but  the  wise  men  were  not  quite 
wise  enough  to  hold  their  tongues.  The  cheapest 
and  easiest  way  to  unearned  advancement  and 
undeserved  power  is  the  way  of  silence,  especially 
if  it  is  made  impressive  by  a  show  of  sternness. 
In  every  country  village  you  will  find  a  physician 
whom  the  people  think  is  the  "  greatest  doctor 
of  them  all  if  he  would  only  let  rum  alone".  I 
used  to  make  it  my  business  to  get  acquainted 
with  these  wonderful  geniuses,  and  I  always 
found  that  those  who  did  not  know  enough  "to 
let  rum  alone",  were  excellent  at  leaving  the 
materia  medico,  alone.  So,  in  every  village  I  have 
found  men  who  never  speak  until  they  can  direct 
the  conversation  and  monopolize  it,  and  who 
never  do  that  until  they  can  get  it  into  a  channel 
familiar  to  them  through  a  judicious  selection  of 
reading  from  an  encyclopedia  the  day  before. 
There  was  one  wise-looking  and  silent  old  chap 
whom  I  knew  very  well,  in  a  town  in  which  I  was 
pastor.  He  used  to  meet  me  daily  on  the  street 
outside  the  Post  Office ;  and  he  had  a  new  subject 


SILENCE  183 

for  conversation  at  every  meeting.  He  intro- 
duced it  and  talked  on  it.  It  was  a  topic  nobody 
else  would  ever  dream  of  taking  up.  I  confess 
that  I  used  to  be  impressed  at  the  old  man's  in- 
formation about  strange  and  outlandish  things ; 
until  one  day,  in  order  to  verify  a  statement  he 
had  made,  I  consulted  the  International  Encyclo- 
pedia, and  behold,  I  found  my  wise  friend's  dis- 
course almost  word  for  word.  After  that  I 
reduced  him  to  silence  by  diplomatically  refusing 
to  discuss  any  subject  he  introduced.  He  dropped 
my  acquaintance.  An  advantage  this  sort  of 
silent  man  has  is  that,  when  obliged  to  retreat 
behind  the  barriers  of  his  taciturnity,  he  looks 
wiser  in  his  dignified  silence  than  during  his 
illuminating  flashes  of  borrowed  knowledge. 
Men  do  not  always  understand  that  such  a  person 
is  like  one  of  these  little  pocket  electric-lights  run 
on  a  small  storage  battery,  with  a  tiny  lamp  set 
in  a  strong  reflector.  He  gives  out  every  ray 
that  is  in  him  for  the  instant  that  he  dares  to 
shine,  but  there  is  little  current  back  of  the  light 
bulb. 

It  is  true,  nevertheless,  that  such  a  silent  man 
is  often  unusually  successful,  probably  because 
the  rest  of  mankind  is  not  in  his  class.  The  rea- 
son is,  that  most  men  are  suspicious  of  themselves 
and  mistrust  their  own  judgment,  though  they  do 
not  like  to  own  to  the  fact.  Deep  down  in  their 


184  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

Hearts  they  wonder  at  their  own  success  and  their 
own  progress.  They  are  painfully  aware  of  their 
shortcomings,  and  full  of  surprise  that  these 
shortcomings  have  not  been  noticed  by  their  fel- 
lows. Consequently  they  are  always  ready  to  be 
impressed  by  others  who  are  different — and  the 
different  man  is  the  silent  man.  But  he  is  ad- 
mired too  often  for  wrhat  he  is  not,  for  what  his 
occasional  flashes  lead  men  to  think  him  to  be. 
These  occasional  flashes  favor  him  as  an  unex- 
pected sound  intensifies  the  stillness  of  the  desert. 
The  higher  the  place  such  a  man  holds,  the  more 
other  men  think  he  is  fitted  for  it,  since  he  does 
not  need  to  talk  to  show  his  wisdom  or  to  conceal 
his  ignorance.  The  Oracles  of  Apollo  spoke  rarely 
and  then  but  few  words.  They  were  thought  to 
possess  divine  wisdom,  but  the  Oracles  of  Apollo 
were  wisest  in  their  silence,  and  their  race  has 
not  yet  passed  from  the  earth. 

I  have  come  to  mistrust  the  silent  man.  He  is 
dangerous.  It  is  in  silence  that  plots  are  hatched 
and  evil  concocted.  It  is  in  silence  that  hates  are 
nurtured  and  grudges  wax  fat.  He  who  speaks 
little  to  his  kind  speaks  a  great  deal  to  himself, 
and  soon  begins  to  admire  the  company  he  keeps. 
As  admiration  for  himself  ripens,  disgust  for 
others  grows ;  and  the  result  is  a  harmful  selfish- 
ness. The  distance  between  selfishness  and  hatred 
is  only  a  difference  of  time — the  time  between 


SILENCE  185 

the  ripening  of  the  seed  and  its  taking  root  in 
the  soil. 

But  a  minority  of  silent  men  are  truly  great. 
They  are  those  who  enter  into  silence  as  the  High 
Priest  entered  into  the  Holy  of  Holies,  as  Moses 
entered  on  the  sacred  ground  about  the  Burn- 
ing Bush.  It  is  out  of  their  silence  that  great 
messages  come,  that  noble  inspirations  to  high 
and  holy  thoughts  proceed.  In  the  desert  the 
cenobites  lived  in  silence  with  all  the  hosts  of 
heaven  for  company.  In  the  silence  some  men 
dwell  with  a  world  of  their  own  about  them, 
happy  in  it,  and  never  wanting  to  leave  it ;  but 
snatching  out  of  it  every  now  and  then  some  great 
or  beautiful  thing,  to  fling  it  into  that  other  world 
in  which  the  rest  live,  as  a  treasure  from  a  land 
so  many  may  never  enter. 

Not  everybody  can  know  the  real  beauty  and 
meaning  of  that  Song  of  the  Mystic  I  already 
quoted;  but,  reading  it,  everybody  can  feel 
vaguely  that  it  would  be  a  desirable  thing  to  be 
able  to  sing  it  oneself.  There  is  a  poetry  that 
never  measures  a  verse  and  never  needs  to ;  but 
it  is  all  written  in  the  Valley  of  Silence,  on  sheets 
that  are  stained  with  the  tears  of  disappointment, 
because  words  can  tell  so  little  of  the  feelings 
that  are  in  the  heart.  There  are  orations  whose 
force  comes  not  from  their  beauty  and  depth  of 
thought  and  wonder  of  diction,  but  from  the 


186  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

wealth  they  cannot  express,  yet  always  imply. 
There  is  a  music  that  the  old  notes  cannot  render, 
but  which  seems  to  have  back  of  it  strange 
harmonies,  which  some  hear  and  to  which  others 
are  deaf ;  which  are  clear  today  but  tomorrow  we 
shall  not  be  able  to  understand.  The  thinkers 
of  the  world  have  been  silent  men ;  but  men  who 
could  not  always  keep  silence,  because  the  neces- 
sity of  expression  came  to  them.  Such  men 
never  have  to  push  themselves  upon  anyone's  at- 
tention. They  get  the  ear  of  the  world  without 
trying.  They  never  speak  because  they  want 
others  to  hear.  They  speak  because  they  must. 
There  is  something  akin  to  inspiration  in  what 
they  do  or  say.  These  are  the  silent  men  who  are 
worth  standing  guard  over,  so  as  to  catch  every 
utterance  that  is  forced  from  their  lips. 

In  dealing  with  silent  men  it  is  well  to  be  on 
your  guard,  for,  as  I  said,  the  majority  are  silent 
for  a  purpose.  But  the  minority  of  the  silent 
ones  are  worth  attention.  How  shall  you  know 
them?  It  is  hard  to  say.  Perhaps  the  best  test 
is  this:  do  they  profit  or  do  they  lose  by  their 
silence  ?  Most  of  the  really  wise  silent  men  have 
been  taken  for  fools ;  and  most  of  the  silent  fools 
have  been  taken  for  wise  men. 


XX 

DREAMERS 

WE  do  not  need  to  "  scratch  a  Russian  "  to  "  find 
a  Tartar."  We  might  scratch  ourselves  and  find 
the  same  sort  of  a  wild  rover  any  time. 


So  far  as  the  eye  can  see,  the  stars  were  not 
placed  in  the  heavens  by  rule  of  thumb ;  but  they 
are  there  by  rule  nevertheless. 


DREAMERS 
My  dear  Jack: 

When  I  praised  the  Enthusiast  it  might  have 
seemed  to  you  that  I  was  pleading  for  dreamers, 
and,  in  a  way,  I  was.  But  I  was  rather  apolo- 
gizing than  pleading.  I  was  like  the  judge  whom 
stern  duty  bid  sentence  a  miserable  wretch  to 
prison;  but  who  yet  knew  the  extenuating  cir- 
cumstances that,  outside  the  law,  made  this  man 
less  guilty  than  many  of  his  accusers.  Dreamers 
have  usually  been  themselves  failures ;  or  unsuc- 
cessful till  success  meant  nothing  to  them.  If 
John  Boyle  O'Reilly  was  right  in  saying  that 
"the  dreamer  lives  forever  but  the  toiler  dies 
in  a  day,"  his  immortality  has  been  a  good  thing 
for  the  dreamer;  for  only  after  he  has  passed 
from  bodily  life  does  he  actually  begin  to  live. 
In  the  life  of  this  world  a  salesman  must  have 
something  to  sell,  something  that  men  can  see 
and  touch  and  enjoy.  So  it  is  the  hard,  cold,  mat- 
ter-of-fact fellow  who  counts  for  the  day.  The 
dreamer,  the  " rainbow-chaser,"  the  lovable  wan- 
derer, is  one  of  Bob  Service's  "men  that  don't 
fit  in."  How  well  he  describes  these  men  we  all 
know : 

189 


190  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

"If  they  just  went  straight  they  might  go  far; 

They  are  strong  and  brave  and  true; 
But  they're  always  tired  of  things  that  are, 

And  they  want  the  strange  and  new. 
They  say:    'Could  I  find  my  proper  groove, 

What  a  deep  mark  I  would  make!' 
So  they  chop  and  change,  and  each  fresh  move 

Is  only  a  fresh  mistake." 

I  am  sorry,  deeply  sorry,  for  these  men — and 
so  are  you.  Why?  Because  they  are  our  kin,  as 
they  are  kin  to  all  the  world.  There  is  some  of 
the  same  spirit  and  failing  in  all  of  us.  If  there 
were  not  we  wouldn't  ourselves  be  worth  any- 
thing. But  the  rest  of  us  have  the  spirit  under 
control,  or  think  we  have.  As  a  matter  of  fact, 
we  sometimes  discover  that  we  have  not  the  con- 
trol we  so  fondly  credited  to  our  strength  of 
character.  We  do  not  need  to  "scratch  a  Eus- 
sian"  to  "find  a  Tartar."  We  might  scratch 
ourselves  and  find  the  same  sort  of  a  wild  rover 
any  time.  The  difference  between  ourselves  and 
the  other  is,  while  he 

"  .  .  .  forgets  that  his  youth  has  fled, 

Forgets  that  Ms  prime  is  past, 
Till  he  stands  one  day,  with  a  hope  that's  dead, 

In  the  glare  of  the  truth  at  last," 


DREAMERS  191 

we  had  that  searching  glare  on  us  early.  The 
real  difference  is  only  in  the  time  of  the  revela- 
tion. Why  not  love  the  dreamers'?  We  were 
once  of  the  tribe,  and  there  are  always  memories. 

But,  Jack,  it  would  be  an  awful  calamity  had 
we  left  that  tribe  and  also  the  memories  that 
bind  us  to  it.  It  is  the  dreamer  in  most  men  that 
makes  them  fit  for  human  companionship.  For 
the  scientific  mind,  I  have  use  only  in  my  argu- 
mentative moods ;  and  from  the  mathematician, 
"Good  Lord,  deliver  me."  I  would  walk  miles 
to  spend  an  evening  with  a  dreamer,  the  less  he 
"fits  in"  the  greater  my  pleasure  in  his  company ; 
while  I  would  run  the  same  distance  from  the 
fifteen  minute  visit  of  the  "pure  intellect." 
There  never  was  anything  but  monotony  in  the 
squared  and  the  concreted.  God  laid  out  no 
blocks  in  His  universe ;  may  He  be  thanked  for 
that.  So  far  as  the  eye  can  see,  the  stars  were 
not  placed  in  the  heavens  by  rule  of  thumb ;  but 
they  are  there  by  rule  nevertheless. 

There  is  enough  worldly  wisdom  in  avoiding 
the  danger  of  being  a  dreamer,  to  justify  one's 
trying  hard  to  keep  from  drifting  entirely  that 
way.  There  is  enough  spiritual  wisdom  in  law 
and  order  to  justify  suspecting  one's  tendency 
to  dreaming.  But  there  is  also  enough  pure  joy 
in  dreaming,  to  assure  one  that  dreams  have  a 
right  to  be,  and  dreamers  a  place  in  God's  uni- 


192  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

verse.  Our  greatest  fights  with  ourselves  are  not 
fights  to  keep  from  going  to  extremes.  They  are 
fights  to  keep  in  the  middle ;  and,  at  that,  most 
of  us  have  had  rather  indifferent  success.  His- 
tory records  that  General  Wolfe  murmured 
lines  from  Gray's  Elegy  on  his  way  to  the  plains 
of  Abraham,  and  said  that  he  would  rather  have 
written  them  than  take  Quebec.  Scratched  was 
the  Wolfe,  and  a  lamb  of  Arcadia  was  found — a 
dreamer  who  " fitted  in,"  and  yet  was  gloriously 
unsatisfied.  If  I  look  at  the  whole  world's  pop- 
ulation as  it  now  is,  I  cannot  see  a  place  for  the 
dreamer ;  but  I  cannot  think  of  the  world  and  its 
people  that  way.  I  must  look  at  it  as  it  was,  as 
it  is,  and  as  it  will  be.  Those  who  live  in  it  now 
are  but  a  handful  of  those  who,  at  the  end,  will 
be  written  down  as  its  citizens.  The  time  will 
come  when  there  shall  be  no  dead,  but  a  throng- 
ing multitude  of  the  living,  made  up  of  all  who 
once  dwelt  here  on  earth.  Then  we  shall  have  the 
true  perspective  and  find  that,  perhaps,  Wolfe 
was  right. 

Of  one  thing  I  feel  sure :  for  the  here  and  now 
it  is  better  to  "fit  in,"  to  be  no  dreamer,  and 
to  forget  the  rainbows.  But  to  live  in  the  f titure, 
to  court  the  immortality  of  fame,  to  be  a  great 
citizen  of  the  world  in  a  day  that  stretches  from 
Adam  to — whom?  it  will  prove  best  to  have 
been  one  who  loved  rather  than  hated,  who 


DREAMERS  193 

dreamed  rather  than  schemed;  who  prayed 
rather  than  preyed;  who  smiled  in  joy  rather 
than  frowned  in  anger;  who  looked  up  at  the 
stars  rather  than  fixed  eyes  on  the  earth;  and 
such  a  one  is  the  true  dreamer. 


XXI 

OLD  THINGS 

I  SYMPATHIZE  with  the  man  who  is  only  the  servant 
of  a  machine.  ...  I  think  there  is  a  deeper  rea- 
son than  the  question  of  pay  for  the  modern  strike. 


I  LIKE  to  see  progress ;  but  I  do  not  like  to  pay  for 
it  with  the  old  ideals  that  first  made  it  possible. 


EVIL  may  be  shouting  in  our  souls  constantly ;  but 
it  is  for  us  to  say  whether  or  not  we  are  to  hear 
its  voice. 


OLD  THINGS 

My  dear  Jack: 

Some  of  my  friends  show  a  sort  of  mild  and 
superior  tolerance  of  what  they  call  my- "junk." 
I  have  to  acknowledge  that  I  am  very  fond  of 
the  things  that  are  old — old  pictures,  old  books, 
old  prints,  old  china.  It  is  not,  however,  be- 
cause things  are  old  that  I  like  them;  nor  yet 
because  they  help  me  get  the  atmosphere  in  which 
history  may  best  be  read ;  but  rather  because  the 
old  things,  nearly  all  of  them,  speak  to  me  of 
devotion  and  an  ideal  in  work  that  we  have  not 
in  this  age  of  machinery.  Now,  I  have  nothing 
against  the  age  of  machinery;  in  fact,  I  rather 
like  living  in  these  times.  I  never  had,  for  ex- 
ample, any  prejudices  against  automobiles.  When 
I  travel,  I  take  advantages  of  modern  comforts ; 
and  this  is  the  most  comfortable  age  of  the  world 
for  travel.  Still,  I  constantly  feel  like  lament- 
ing the  fact  that  machinery  has  driven  out  the 
personal  interest  and  devotion  men  used  to  take 
in  producing  things.  There  isn't  much  inspira- 
tion to  be  gotten  out  of  a  modern  factory.  I 
visited  one  a  few  weeks  ago,  and  the  composite 

197 


198  LETTERS  TO  rJACK 

picture  I  took  away  was  distressing.  It  seemed 
as  if  one  big  machine,  and  the  men  around  it, 
made  a  picture  for  me  of  the  whole  factory.  Two 
men  were  engaged  in  mechanically  picking  up 
long  steel  bars,  placing  them  singly  in  a  certain 
groove,  leaving  each  one  there  until  a  hammer 
banged  holes  in  them,  and  then  throwing  them  on 
the  pile  of  " finished"  work.  The  men  were  too 
much  like  the  machine  they  attended.  The  head 
of  the  factory  told  me  that  they  do  nothing  else 
from  morning  until  night.  The  bar  forms  part 
of  a  bed;  but  the  other  parts  are  made  in  the 
same  way.  No  individual  workman  in  the  fac- 
tory makes  an  entire  bed.  It  takes  two  hundred 
employes,  starting  from  the  designer  and  wind- 
ing up  with  the  finisher,  to  do  that.  The  only 
inspiration  there  is  in  the  whole  factory  is  that 
of  the  designer.  It  seemed  to  me  that  he  was 
the  only  man  who  had  a  chance  to  actually  enjoy 
his  work. 

You  can  readily  see  why  I  am  sorry  that  the 
machine  has,  almost  entirely,  eliminated  the 
workingman  who  could  start  producing  some- 
thing, and  finish  it  all  by  himself.  Machinery 
has  taken  the  inspiration,  and  therefore  the 
pleasure,  out  of  work.  It  is  no  wonder  to  me 
that  the  age  of  machinery  is  the  age  of  labor 
troubles.  I  sympathize  with  the  man  who  is 
only  the  servant  of  a  machine.  I  cannot  find  the 


OLD  THINGS  199 

heart  to  blame  him  for  being  dissatisfied.  So  I 
think  there  is  a  deeper  reason  than  the  question 
of  pay  for  the  modern  strike.  Without  knowing 
it,  the  men  have  gotten  into  the  state  of  working 
for  pay  alone.  In  the  olden  days  there  was  more 
pleasure  in  a  man's  craftsmanship  than  in  the 
money  he  received  for  it.  The  old  workman  was 
often  an  artist;  for  even  when  he  did  not  have 
the  skill,  he  had  the  feeling ;  and  he  did  not  take 
his  pleasure  out  of  his  skill,  but  out  of  his  feel- 
ing. I  dropped  into  a  little  shoe-shop  one  day 
to  have  a  lift  put  upon  a  heel.  It  was  quite  late 
in  the  evening,  but  the  shoemaker  was  pegging 
away.  "You  don't  keep  union  hours,"  I  re- 
marked. The  old  man  loked  up  at  me  with  a 
smile.  "No,"  he  said,  "but  my  boy  does.  You 
see,  Father,  he  works  in  a  shoe  factory,  and  when 
the  whistle  blows  he  stops.  A  man  cannot  take 
very  much  interest  in  stamping  out  soles,  and 
that's  what  he  does.  I  often  work  until  ten 
o  'clock  because  I  cannot  lay  my  work  aside.  You 
wouldn't  think,  would  you,  that  I  could  take  in- 
terest enough  in  a  pair  of  shoes  to  keep  me  from 
my  evening  paper?  But  I  do.  Now  here,"  he 
continued,  picking  up  a  pair  of  shoes,  "is  some- 
thing I  am  very  proud  of.  I  made  these  shoes 
myself.  They  will  last  three  years.  The  shoes 
that  are  turned  out  by  the  factory  my  son  works 
in  look  prettier,  but  they  will  not  last  six  months. 


200  LETTERS  TO  'JACK 

These  are  honest  shoes  and  there  is  honest  labor 
in  them. ' '  I  thoroughly  understood  the  old  man, 
and  I  liked  his  point  of  view.  I  know,  of  course, 
that  we  must  have  factories.  I  would  not  turn 
back  the  hand  on  the  clock  if  I  could ;  but  at  the 
same  time  I  rejoice  that  there  still  is,  and  always 
will  be,  a  demand  for  the  things  that  are  made  in 
the  old  way ;  not  that  we  need  these  things  so  very 
badly,  but  that  we  need  the  sort  of  men  who  per- 
sist in  making  them.  •  I  suppose  these  are  only 
the  William  Morris  views  I  picked  up  from  an 
occasional  glance  over  the  now  defunct  "  Philis- 
tine." I  certainly  know  that  they  are  not  origi- 
nal; but  I  am  aiming  at  the  giving  of  advice 
rather  than  at  originality. 

This  love  for  the  old  things  that  I  have,  con- 
cerns more  than  the  things  that  I  can  see  and 
touch.  For  example,  I  love  the  old  spirit  that, 
alas !  now  seems  to  be  passing  away.  Last  week, 
as  I  was  going  into  my  office,  I  saw  a  regiment 
of  soldiers  marching  from  the  railway  station  to 
their  armory.  They  were  returning  from  the 
Mexican  border.  The  band  was  playing  a  patri- 
otic air  as  I  walked  to  the  curb  to  watch  the 
regiment  go  by.  The  flags  passed  a  minute  later. 
My  hat  was  the  only  one  that  was  doffed ;  and  I 
could  not  help  the  fact  that  my  eyes  became  a 
little  dim.  What  astonished  me  was  that  nobody 
else  seemed  to  get  any  sentiment  out  of  the 


OLD  THINGS  201 

marching  men,  the  flags  and  the  music.  I  thought 
at  first  that  perhaps  it  was  because  I  was  a  little 
different,  since  I  had  served  with  the  colors  in 
a  very  mild  sort  of  a  war.  But  later  on,  while 
going  up  in  the  elevator  to  my  office,  I  knew  that 
I  was  wrong.  The  people  have  changed.  The 
curse  of  riches  is  on  us  and  the  evils  of  prosperity 
are  our  own.  I  was  fifteen  minutes  at  my  desk 
before  I  could  get  down  to  work.  I  sat  thinking 
of  twenty  years  ago  when,  in  the  little  town  where 
I  was  pastor,  I  made  my  first  patriotic  address, 
before  a  mound  erected  in  the  cemetery,  "To  the 
Unknown  Dead."  That  day  there  were  ad- 
dresses by  four  or  five  Protestant  ministers  as 
well  as  myself.  Some  of  these  ministers  were 
bigoted  men,  and  they  usually  disliked  me  be- 
cause I  was  a  priest ;  but  they  did  not  dislike  me 
that  day.  There  was  a  sort  of  " Truce  of  God" 
on  Memorial  Day;  and  I  never  can  forget  the 
heartiness  with  which  the  ministers,  the  old  sol- 
diers and  the  crowd  received  what  they  thought 
were  most  unusual  sentiments  from  the  mouth 
of  a  "  Romanist. ' '  Bless  their  poor  blind  hearts ! 
I  think  the  " Romanist"  felt  the  occasion  more 
deeply  than  any  of  them;  for  even  prosperity 
does  not  stampede  him ;  and  prosperity  has  stam- 
peded more  than  one  of  the  men  who  stood  with 
moist  eyes  about  the  mound  that  day.  I  like  to 
see  progress,  but  I  do  not  like  to  pay  for  it  with 


202  LETTERS  TO  rJACK 

the  old  ideals  that  first  made  it  possible.  Prog- 
ress does  not  rush.  It  moves  with  dignity  and 
safety.  Its  effect  is  to  make  good  things  better  ; 
but  it  does  not  destroy  that  which  is  good.  If  a 
machine  only  succeeds  in  producing  great  quan- 
tities of  inferior  things,  without  even  the  excuse 
of  giving  more  leisure  for  self -development  to 
the  workman,  I  am  inclined  to  look  doubtfully 
at  the  ultimate  value  of  the  machine. 

Truth  is,  my  dear  Jack,  that  the  love  for  the 
old  things  is  a  response  to  one  of  those  mysteri- 
ous voices  that  speak  to  us  constantly  from 
within  and  without.  "Two  voices  there  are,  one 
of  the  Earth  and  one  of  the  Sea ;  each  a  mighty 
voice,"  said  some  poet.  The  poet  was  conserva- 
tive. There  is  a  mighty  voice  also  from  the 
heavens ;  Bob  Service  is  a  new  sort  of  poet,  but 
he  has  the  idea: 

"Here  lay  the  camp  fire's  flicker, 

Deep  in  my  blanket  curled, 
I  long  for  the  peace  of  the  pine-gloom, 

When  the  scroll  of  the  Lord  is  unfurled, 
And  the  wind  and  the  wave  are  silent, 

And  world  is  singing  to  world/' 

There  are  a  myriad  of  lesser  voices  from  earth, 
sea  and  sky,  wordless  whispers  in  our  ears,  speak- 
ing everywhere  and  always.  What  we  call  "in- 
spiration" is  the  message  of  these  voices.  The 


OLD  THINGS  203 

highest  inspiration  is  the  Voice  of  God.  The 
lesser  inspirations  are  His  in  a  way  also,  since 
from  Him  comes  all  good.  But  His  Voice  in 
the  minor  things  sound  through  His  works. 
Byron  was  no  saint,  but  when  he  heard  the 
ocean's  voice,  and  was  inspired  to  address  to  it 
his  immortal  eulogy:  "Roll  on,  thou  deep  and 
dark  blue  ocean,  roll,"  he  could  not  help  con- 
fessing God's  power.  The  same  thing  happened 
when  he  heard  the  voice  of  St.  Peter's  at  Rome, 
and  his  praise  reached  the  heights  of  sublimity 
in  the  words:  " Worthiest  of  God,  the  Holy  and 
the  True."  Shakespeare  heard  the  voices  and 
confessed  it,  for  to  him  there  were  "  sermons  in 
stones."  It  was  fitting  that  the  architecture  of 
the  Middle  Ages  inspired  the  idea  of  its  being 
called  " frozen  music." 

Life  is  full  of  eloquence  raised  to  the  sublim- 
ity that  moves  the  soul.  Even  life's  smallest 
things  have  great  messages,  if  you  will  only  stop 
to  hear  them.  There  is  nothing  prosaic  in  life, 
if  you  will  but  attune  your  ear  to  catch  the  voices 
that  arise  out  of  all  its  movements.  Even  what 
men  think  are  only  " disorders,"  like  sickness 
and  death,  even  these  speak,  with  a  voice  that 
can  be  understood,  and  their  message  is  one  of 
consolation. 

It  is  only  when  the  fallen  nature  of  mankind 
gets  the  upper  hand  that  the  voices  from  within 


204  LETTERS  TO  rJACK 

are  evil ;  and  it  is  only  when  these  interior  voices 
are  evil  that  the  voices  from  without  are  mis- 
understood or  ignored.  I  could  almost  say  that 
all  the  voices  from  without  are  good.  We  merely 
fail  sometimes,  because  of  what  speaks  within 
us,  to  hear  them  aright.  If  you  have  a  perfectly 
adjusted  receiver  on  your  phonograph,  the  rec- 
ord will  be  perfect.  If  the  receiver  is  wrong, 
you  will  get  only  a  jumble  of  sounds.  The  pho- 
nograph will  give  out,  not  what  is  spoken  into  it, 
but  what  the  recorder  engraves  on  the  cylinder. 
The  trouble  is  all  with  the  phonograph.  So  it 
is  with  us.  We  hear  the  perfect  message,  but, 
if  we  are  ourselves  defective,  we  do  not  record  it 
as  it  was  spoken ;  and,  therefore,  cannot  repro- 
duce it  in  our  lives.  Man's  evil  instincts  are 
from  within.  The  bad  voices  speak  only  out  of  a 
depraved  nature.  The  whispers  of  unclean,  of 
unworthy,  desires,  become  louder  on  man's  spir- 
itual ear  as  he  neglects  more  and  more  the  gen- 
tle warnings  of  what  is  good  in  him ;  till,  at  last, 
the  voice  of  evil  is  so  loud  that  it  seems  to  drown 
out  the  voice  of  good.  But  the  latter  is  never 
drowned.  If  you  try  you  may  always  hear  it. 
There  are  wireless  telegraph  stations  of  such 
great  electrical  power  that  their  messages  of 
world  wars  and  intrigues  reach  half  around  the 
globe.  Yet,  with  the  waves  of  the  air  filled  with 
the  power  behind  these  messages,  a  little  instru- 


OLD  THINGS  205 

ment  in  a  cottage  by  the  sea,  tuned  to  catch  a 
lighter  but  more  important  note,  answers  not  at 
all  to  the  mighty  currents,  but  flashes  words  of 
peace  and  love  to  its  own  kin.  Evil  may  be  shout- 
ing in  our  souls  constantly ;  but  it  is  for  us  to  say 
whether  or  not  we  are  to  hear  its  voice. 

But  I  have  been  digressing — and  I  am  not 
sorry  for  it. 


XXII 
HUMILITY 

WE  haven't  any  more  right  to  steal  God's  honor 
from  God  than  to  steal  their  money  from  our 
neighbors. 

IF  you  give  an  advice  you  make  a  present  of  it  to 
someone  else.  It  no  more  belongs  to  you;  then 
why  should  you  seek  glory  from  it? 


TRUE  humility  is  true  dignity. 


HUMILITY 

My  dear  Jack: 

The  book  that  I  love  and  admire  next  to  the 
Bible  is  the  Imitation  of  Christ.  There  is  a 
whole  sermon  in  its  title,  for  Christ  is  the  Ex- 
emplar of  mankind.  To  attempt  even  a  feeble 
imitation  of  Him  is  to  have  one's  feet  set  on  the 
road  to  true  success. 

One  of  the  most  insistent  of  Christ's  good  ex- 
amples was  His  humility  before  His  Father ;  yet 
He  was  one  with  the  Father.  "The  Father  and 
I,"  He  said,  "are  one".  "I  have  glorified  Thee 
on  earth ;  I  have  finished  the  work  Thou  gavest 
me  to  do,  and  now  glorify  Thou  Me,  O  Father, 
with  Thyself,  with  the  glory  which  I  had  before 
the  world  was,  with  Thee."  Christ  knew  per- 
fectly well  what  glory  was  His  own,  but  it  was 
only  at  the  end  of  His  earthly  mission  that  He 
made  any  claim  to  it.  It  was  Christ's  constant 
habit  to  fight  off  glory  for  Himself.  His  humility 
was  the  deepest  of  all  humility.  By  example  He 
taught  that  lesson,  and  established  the  usefulness 
and  need  of  this  all-conquering  virtue.  You  see, 
Jack,  I  have  started  this  letter  in  a  sermonizing 
sort  of  way.  I  am  afraid  that  all  my  letters  have, 

209 


210  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

in  spite  of  myself,  become  half  sermons.  They 
have  just  drifted  that  way;  and  I  could  not  help 
it.  These  letters  unconsciously  found  out  for 
themselves  that  they  needed  a  solid  basis ;  hence 
the  religious  tone  that  they  have  adopted. 

The  fact  of  the  existence  of  God  and  our  de- 
pendence upon  Him  is  the  basis  of  the  virtue  of 
humility;  for  we  have  nothing  that  is  of  our  own 
making,  nothing  belonging  to  us  that  we  can  be 
proud  of,  save  our  divine  ancestry.  Our  divine 
ancestry  even  is  an  invitation  for  us  to  be  humble. 
Pride  is  a  sort  of  apostasy,  for  it  is  the  setting- 
up  of  oneself  in  a  place  that  belongs  to  God.  The 
Commandment,  "Thou  shalt  not  have  strange/ 
gods  before  Me",  not  only  hits  ordinary  idola- 
tors  but  also  the  proud  and  selfish  people  who 
enthrone  themselves  in  God's  place.  All  saints 
were  very  humble,  and  no  proud  man  can  be  a 
saint.  True  success  calls  for  humility.  We 
haven't  any  more  right  to  steal  God's  honor  from 
God  than  to  steal  their  money  from  our  neigh- 
bors. To  be  vainglorious,  proud  and  boastful  is 
Jiot  only  to  make  yourself  a  nuisance  to  all  who 
know  you,  but  it  is  to  steal  from  God  what  be- 
longs to  Him. 

The  perversities  of  pride  show  a  man  a  weak- 
ling to  his  fellows  and  lead  to  his  ruin.  I  have 
known  some  men,  for  example,  who  are  in  the 
habit  of  constantly  volunteering  advice — a  very 


HUMILITY  211 

despicable  habit,  by  the  way.  It  may  be  that  the 
advice  was  entirely  unnecessary,  and  that  the  vic- 
tim of  it  receives  no  information  whatever  from 
it;  but  if  his  action  is  in  line  with  that  advice, 
even  though  it  had  been  previously  determined 
on,  long  before  he  met  the  officious  meddler, 
nevertheless  the  meddler  proceeds  to  take  all  the 
credit  to  himself.  When  you  hear  men  say :  "I 
did  that",  "I  made  such  and  such  a  man",  "I 
pulled  this  thing  out  of  the  mud",  etc.,  etc.,  you 
may  conclude  safely  that  some  one  is  trying  to 
ride,  through  his  pride  and  vainglory,  on  the 
shoulders  of  another.  It  is  only  a  manifestation 
of  foolish  conceit. 

If  you  give  an  advice  you  make  a  present  of  it 
to  someone  else.  It  no  more  belongs  to  you ;  then 
why  should  you  seek  glory  from  it  ?  When  you 
give  advice  and  then  demand  the  credit  for  any 
good  that  follows,  your  offering  is  merely  what 
boys  call  an  "Injun's  gift", — a  gift  that  you  want 
back.  If  you  give  advice  keep  quiet  about  it.  It 
is  best  anyhow  not  to  give  it  unless  you  are  asked. 
You  haven't  any  right  to  be  an  embarrassment  to 
other  people ;  and  ninety-nine  per  cent  of  volun- 
teered advice  is  a  tax  upon  the  patience  and  char- 
ity of  those  who  receive  it.  I  confess  to  a  cordial 
dislike  for  the  man  who  constantly  thrusts  his 
advice  upon  me.  I  may  be  wrong,  but  the  con- 
viction forces  itself  upon  me  that  such  a  man  is 


212  LETTERS  TO  STACK 

selfish,  mean  and  vainglorious.  He  wants  to 
exalt  himself  at  my  expense  in  most  cases.  If  I 
take  his  advice,  he  will  boast  about  it  and  act 
toward  me  as  if  I  were  under  a  perpetual  obliga- 
tion. If  I  do  not  take  it,  he  thinks  me  a  fool.  Vol- 
unteering advice  is  a  sure  way  to  begin  to  culti- 
vate a  new  enemy.  Even  when  you  are  asked  to 
give  advice,  do  not  rattle  it  off  as  if  you  were  mas- 
ter of  the  subject.  Hesitate  about  giving  it,  at 
least  until  you  know  it  is  really  wanted.  Then 
offer  it  in  a  very  humble  way.  Most  people  who 
ask  for  advice  really  do  not  want  it.  They  are 
seeking  confirmation  of  their  own  opinions  and 
approval  of  their  own  plans. 

It  is  true  that  no  one  should  cultivate  the 
"  'umbleness"  of  Uriah  Heep,  though  there  are 
plenty  of  people  who  like  it  in  others,  because 
they  cannot  see  the  falseness  at  the  bottom  of  it. 
To  be  humble  you  have  to  feel  humble,  and  to  feel 
humble  you  must  be  to  a  great  extent  a  spiritual 
person.  The  humbleness  that  comes  from  a  sense 
of  our  dependence  upon  God  is  never  the  "  'um- 
bleness"  of  Uriah  Heep.  True  humility  does  not 
cringe.  True  humility  is  true  dignity.  The  hum- 
blest men  I  ever  knew  were  the  greatest  men  I 
ever  knew.  I  never  saw  a  more  beautiful  humil- 
ity than  that  of  Pope  Pius  X.  This  sort  of 
humility  is  very  attractive,  especially  in  youth, 
because  there  never  is  any  boasting  connected 


HUMILITY  213 

with  it.  Deeds  have  a  habit  of  speaking  for  them- 
selves. Boastings  are  only  the  gilt  wash  on  base 
metal.  Once  a  friend  gave  me  a  match-case  of 
silver.  It  was  very  beautiful.  The  engraving 
upon  it  was  especially  fine.  I  was  not  satisfied, 
so  I  had  it  plated  with  gold;  and  I  spoiled  it, 
because  the  plating  smoothed  over  the  fine  marks 
of  the  engraving.  The  beauty  of  my  match-safe 
was  gone  forever.  Do  not  go  about  gilding  your- 
self and  your  deeds.  People  often  know  you  bet- 
ter than  you  know  yourself.  The  marks  of  your 
own  handiwork  on  your  own  soul  are  the  marks 
of  character. 

Modesty  is  a  ticket  of  admission  to  the  heart 
of  all  the  men  who  are  worth  knowing.  When 
you  gain  entrance  to  such  a  man's  heart,  the  way 
is  short  to  his  intelligence.  Modesty  is  the  out- 
ward expression  of  honesty  and  well-founded 
humility.  Humility  does  not  destroy  the  confi- 
dence you  should  have  in  yourself.  It  only  gives 
it  a  good  foundation  because  it  puts  God  into  it ; 
and  confidence  is  based  on  self-knowledge.  A 
man  who  knows  himself  knows  that  his  strength 
is  greater  than  anything  it  would  be  possible  for 
him  to  have  made  alone.  It  is  God  in  us  that 
strengthens  us. 

I  said  that  true  humility  is  spiritual.  It  is 
more — it  is  spiritualizing.  When  one  is  truly 
humble,  one  possesses  a  virtue  that  God  loves 


214  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

and  rewards.  If  I  had  a  choice  of  virtues  I 
would  select  humility,  because  I  know  that  it 
includes  most  of  the  others ;  but  it  is  a  hard  vir- 
tue to  acquire.  It  takes  patience  and  prayer  to 
force  its  development  in  the  soul.  The  best  way 
to  secure  what  is  needed  of  it  for  daily  life  is 
through  that  form  of  prayer  which  is  called 
" mental",  which  is  meditation.  Meditation 
turns  the  light  on  yourself,  and  shows  you  up 
to  yourself.  To  acquire  the  virtue  of  humility 
it  is  only  necessary  to  be  honest  with  yourself 
when  you  see  yourself,  and  carry  that  honesty 
out  into  your  dealings  with  your  fellows. 


XXIII 
INSPIRATION 

To  arrive  at  understanding  something  of  God's 
love  for  His  children  one  must  begin  by  under- 
standing the  depths  of  a  mother's  love. 


THE  pleasure  of  doing  anything  for  a  mother  is 
half  in  the  smallness  of  the  thing  that  pleases  her. 


WHEN  you  stop  thinking  of  your  mother,  you 
usually  stop  thinking  of  what  is  good. 


INSPIRATION 
My  dear  Jack: 

In  one  way  there  is  not  so  much  difference 
between  us  as  our  ages  indicate,  for  in  one  way 
we  are  both  just  boys :  I  with  my  forty-six  years 
and  you  with  your  twenty.  We  are  both  boys 
to  our  mothers.  Yours  has  still  some  justifica- 
tion for  thinking  of  you  as  a  boy,  because  you 
have  not  yet  arrived  at  the  age  of  manhood.  Mine 
has  not  that  justification ;  but  what  are  years  to 
a  mother  ?  I  know  my  mother  is  always  thinking 
of  the  old  days  when  she  looks  at  me.  She  al- 
ways will ;  and  that  is  just  what  I  want  her  to 
do.  I  want  to  remain  a  boy  as  long  as  she  lives. 
It  keeps  her  young  and  it  makes  me  feel  young. 

Mothers  are  wonderful,  and  become  more  won- 
derful to  boys  as  the  boys  grow  older  and  older. 
I  never  appreciated  my  mother  as  much  as  I  do 
now;  and  it  is  a  comfort  for  me  to  feel  that  I 
shall  grow  in  appreciation  of  her.  I  can  never 
be  sufficiently  grateful  that  God  has  let  her  stay 
so  long  where  I  can  go  sometimes  to  see  her,  and 
be  a  boy  again.  I  know  that  where  she  is  there 
is  a  haven  of  rest  for  me.  Just  to  enter  it  for  an 
hour  is  a  relief ;  for  nothing  enters  there  with  me 

217 


218  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

but  my  forty-six  years  of  continued  boyhood. 
Mother  has  the  magic  wand  that  touches  grey 
locks  and  makes  them  turn  black  again. 

But  the  great  thing  about  mothers  for  boys, 
old  and  young,  is  the  inspiration  they  seem  to 
have,  in  infinite  reserve,  for  all  good  efforts. 
When  I  was  only  a  student,  wavering  and  fear- 
ful about  the  future,  and  away  from  home,  some- 
how my  mother  stayed  with  me,  and  kept  me  look- 
ing straight  ahead.  Once  my  wavering  became 
very  serious,  and  almost  I  had  decided  to  give 
up  the  hard  struggle  of  college  days — and  go 
back ;  but  I  thought  of  my  mother.  I  could  hear 
her  unspoken  regrets  for  my  lack  of  courage — 
and  the  wavering  was  at  an  end.  Always  does 
the  thought  come,  when  I  am  in  danger  of  mak- 
ing a  false  step:  "What  will  mother  think?" 
I  feared  her  displeasure  once;  but  now  I  fear 
her  pain.  I  simply  could  not  inflict  it  knowingly. 
I  had  rather  die:  yes,  Jack — I  had  rather  die. 
Do  you  yet  realize  what  a  wealth  of  inspiration 
comes  from  the  one  you  cherish  enough  to  die 
rather  than  hurt  ? 

I  am  no  exception  amongst  sons.  I  am  the 
rule.  The  exceptions  are  not  entirely  human. 
They  are  incapable  of  the  highest  and  best.  They 
are  men  to  be  avoided.  I  had  rather  counsel  a 
girl  to  give  up.  her  dreams  of  a  home  and  chil- 
dren, than  counsel  her  to  marry  a  bad  son.  He 


INSPIRATION  219 

who  does  not  love  his  mother  will  never  love  his 
wife. 

To  arrive  at  understanding  something  of 
God's  love  for  his  children  one  must  begin  by 
understanding  the  depths  of  a  mother's  love. 
To  make  a  beginning  of  understanding  God's 
mercy,  we  need  only  study  mothers.  The  one 
thing  about  God  that  a  mother  cannot  teach  you 
is  an  idea  of  His  justice.  Mothers  are  all  essen- 
tially unjust  in  what  concerns  the  relations  of 
their  children  to  others.  They  love  too  much  to 
be  just.  The  scales  are  always  tipped  on  the  side 
of  their  devotion.  Even  their  harshness  is  only 
assumed.  It  is  love  in  another  form  than  the 
conventional. 

If  I  stood  in  danger  of  a  worldly  dignity,  the 
shallowness  of  which  I  had  sounded,  and  conse- 
quently was  far  from  wanting,  I  think  it  would 
be  hard  to  refuse,  because  my  mother  might  like 
it  for  me.  She  might  only  see  her  son's  apparent 
advancement.  Then  would  I  need  an  overpour- 
ing  of  the  grace  of  God.  I  am  always  fearing 
that  I  am  too  selfish  to  be  worthy  of  my  mother ; 
always  asking  if  I  am  doing  enough  to  show  my 
gratitude  and  Jove  for  her.  But  the  blessing  of 
doing  anything  for  a  mother  is  half  in  the  small- 
ness  of  the  thing  that  pleases  her.  But  she, — 
she  is  always  thinking  that  you  do  too  much; 
while  you  are  worried  over  the  fact  that  your  best 


220  LETTERS  TO  3"ACK 

is  too  little.  Who  else  is  there  in  the  world  with 
a  love  like  that  ? 

Do  you  think  that  I  am  going  to  all  this  trouble 
of  writing  these  letters  for  your  sake  alone  ?  Be 
undeceived,  then.  I  am  thinking  more  of  the 
pleasure  they  will  give  my  mother  than  the  possi- 
ble good  they  may  do  to  you.  Indeed,  your  chief 
claim  on  my  affection  is  not  that  you  are  my 
sister's  son;  but  that  you  are  my  mother's 
grandson. 

Catholics  have  something  in  their  religion  that 
others  sadly  lack.  It  is  the  idea  of  a  Divine 
Motherhood.  In  the  litany  of  the  Blessed  Virgin 
there  are  many  beautiful  titles:  " Mystical 
Rose,"  " Tower  of  David,"  " Tower  of  Ivory," 
"Queen  of  Martyrs,"  "Virgin  Most  Faithful;" 
but  it  is  when  we  come  to  the  Mother  titles  that 
our  hearts  expand:  "Mother  Most  Pure," 
"Mother  Undefiled,"  "Mother  Most  Amiable," 
and  then  the  all-embracing  title  of  love ;  "Mother 
of  our  Creator."  That  title  gives  me  a  near 
glimpse  of  God  because  I  seem  to  almost  touch 
His  throne.  Before  my  eyes  it  changes  into  a 
cradle;  then  into  a  seat  on  a  Mother's  lap;  then 
into  a  cross  that  has  wide-stretched  arms.  On 
Calvary  the  title  changes  again  and  I  whisper: 
"Mother  of  my  Redeemer."  If  I  became 
unfaithful,  the  hardest  thing  to  forget  in  my 
religion  would  be  the  touch  of  that  sorrow- 


INSPIRATION  221 

ful  Mother  leading  me  to  the  foot  of  the  Re- 
deeming Cross.  It  was  my  own  mother  who 
first  introduced  me  to  the  Mother  of  Jesus 
Christ. 

Jack,  be  a  man;  but  to  your  mother  never 
cease  to  be  a  boy.  She  is  following  you  with  the 
prayers  that  have  no  distractions  because  her 
whole  soul  is  in  them.  A  mother's  prayers  for 
her  children  are  the  most  fervent  prayers  in  the 
world.  Do  not  think  that  she  ever  leaves  you 
alone.  She  would  be  with  you  in  a  desert.  She 
has  a  soul  in  every  child,  and  it  constantly  comes 
and  goes  between  them.  She  always  keeps  her 
influence  when  the  other  influences  count  for 
nothing.  She  has  an  instinctive  sense  of  what 
is  right  for  you.  I  would  trust  that  instinct 
very  far.  When  you  stop  thinking  of  your 
mother,  you  usually  stop  thinking  of  what  is 
good. 

Mothers  have  faults,  but  not  to  you.  Mothers 
err,  but  yours  does  not.  Mothers  become  old  and 
faded,  but  yours  remains  always  as  you  knew 
her  when  you  played  and  prayed  at  her  knee.  I 
know  I  could  be  happy  in  Heaven  without  my 
mother,  because  I  know  what  Heaven  is :  but  I 
do  not  yet  quite  understand  how.  My  father 
was  a  good  man.  I  honored,  revered  and  loved 
him,  as  I  honor,  revere  and  love  his  memory; 
but  when  I  think  of  the  best  in  him,  it  is  always 


222  INSPIRATION 

that  he  knew  the  kind  of  a  mother  I  had,  and  left 
me  chiefly  to  her  care.  I  had  a  feeling  that  when 
my  father  died  I  lost  him ;  living  or  dead,  I  know 
I  cannot  lose  my  mother. 


XXIV 
OPPORTUNITIES 

NATURE  alone  is  wonderful,  but  man  often  spoils 
her  wonders. 

WHEN  the  pleasure  we  get  through  our  gifts  is 
made  the  only  thing  desirable,  we  prostitute  the 
gifts. 

RIGHT  living,  doing  and  thinking  lower  down  the 
net  into  the  sea. 


OPPORTUNITIES 


My  dear  Jack: 


There  is  a  play  by  Maurice  Maeterlinck  called 
"The' Blue  Bird,"  which  brought  forth  storms 
of  criticism  as  well  as  zephyrs  of  praise.  It  is 
quite  materialistic,  reflecting  much  of  its  author's 
false  philosophy;  but  at  the  same  time  it  is  a 
beautiful  production  with  more  than  one  grain 
of  truth  in  it.  Mr.  Maeterlinck  senses  the  idea 
of  "vocation"  for  each  individual  human  being; 
but,  unfortunately,  he  mixes  in  enough  fatalism 
to  destroy  pretty  nearly  every  vestige  of  free 
will.  One  of  the  strongest  scenes  of  the  play  is 
laid  in  that  vague  "shadow-land"  out  of  which 
come  the  souls  of  humans.  When  the  curtain 
rises  on  this  scene,  the  stage  is  shown  full  of 
unborn  babies,  all  playing  together,  all  wishful 
for  the  day  of  birth ;  and  all  of  them  with  some- 
tiling  to  bring  to  the  earth  with  them.  One  has 
an  invention,  another  a  disease ;  one  has  a  war, 
another  a  treaty  of  peace ;  one  has  a  virtue,  an- 
other a  vice;  and  so  on.  Father  Time  arrives 
with  his  boat  headed  earthward,  and  the  children 
rush  to  enter  it ;  but  Time  selects  only  those  whom 

225 


226  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

Fate  has  destined  to  be  born  that  day.  Each  baby 
who  tries  to  enter  the  boat  without  his  contribu- 
tion of  good  or  evil  to  the  world,  is  sent  back  to 
get  it. 

It  is  not  hard  to  see  that  Maeterlinck  has 
Shakespeare's  idea  about  Opportunities.  The 
great  English  poet  believes  that  there  is  but  one 
for  the  whole  lifetime  of  each  individual.  You 
remember  from  your  school  days  the  famous 
passage :  "There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men, 
which,  taken  at  the  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune," 
etc.  Shakespeare  would  have  every  one  of  us 
eternally  watchful  of  his  days,  his  hours  and  his 
minutes,  in  fear  lest  fortune's  knock  come  and 
find  him  asleep.  So  each  of  us,  according  to  the 
poet's  views,  brings  something  into  the  world; 
but,  unlike  Maeterlinck,  Shakespeare  believes 
that  the  something  is  always  good.  Bishop  Spal- 
ding  holds  that  Opportunities  are  spread  out  be- 
fore every  man  in  his  daily  life.  He  does  not 
believe  in  fate  but  he  does  believe  in  alertness. 
He  would  have  shown  no  patience  with  Maeter^- 
linck  had  he  read  his  play,  and  commented  upon 
it  before  his  lamented  death. 

I  believe  with  Shakespeare  that  each  and  every 
human  being  has  been  given  a  certain  something 
to  do  in  this  world;  and  that  the  certain  some- 
thing is  good,  and  for  the  benefit  of  the  human 
race.  I  believe  that,  in  the  eyes  of  God,  the  cer- 


OPPORTUNITIES  227 

tain  something  which  is  given  each  one  of  us  to 
do  is  a  very  great  thing,  even  though  it  may 
appear  very  small  to  the  eyes  of  men.  I  believe 
that,  if  this  something  be  well  done,  the  reward 
for  the  small  will  be  as  great  as  the  reward  for 
the  big.  Human  beings  judge  only  from  what 
they  see;  and  they  see  only  what  is  material. 
God  alone  sees  the  hidden  things.  It  is  only  the 
man  who  studies  ants  who  realizes  what  wonder- 
ful little  creatures  they  are,  and  how  extraordi- 
nary are  their  works.  When  we  carefully  study 
an  ant-hill,  we  have  a  sort  of  dim  realization  of 
how  God  sees  men.  Every  little  ant  has  its  own 
work  to  do  and  he  does  it.  Every  little  man  and 
woman  has  his  or  her  own  work  to  do,  and  some- 
times does  not  do  it.  When  we  do  that  work,  we 
contribute  to  the  harmony  of  life.  When  we  do 
not,  we  lose  our  great  Opportunity. 

Shakespeare's  idea  is  pretty  near  to  the  truth. 
The  Great  Opportunity  for  each  and  every 
human  being  is  the  opportunity  to  reach  his  or 
her  last  end — union  with  God.  That  Great  Op- 
portunity is  the  same  for  everybody.  There  is, 
however,  so  I  think,  a  special  means  given  each 
of  us,  not  only  to  attain  that  end,  but  also,  in 
working  for  it,  to  help  others  attain  it  as  well. 
I  would  call  this  latter  the  accidental  Oppor- 
tunity. It  is  not  entirely  necessary,  but  we  do 
best  when  we  have  taken  it.  It  is  in  grasping 


228  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

it  that  we  secure  the  largest  amount  of  happi- 
ness in  life  and  labor. 

No  one  is  born  into  this  world  to  spread  dis- 
ease, to  steal,  to  commit  murder— to  sin  in  any 
way.  But  we  have  always  our 'free  will,  and 
therefore  the  power  to  reject  our  opportunities. 
I  believe  that  the  evils  of  the  world,  beginning 
with  the  first,  are  all  the  result  of  rejected  oppor- 
tunities— sins  of  some  kind.  It  is  inconceivable 
that  God  laid  out  the  world  as  men  have  made 
it.  It  is  too  plain  that  what  men  had  no  chance 
to  interfere  with  is  good  and  well  ordered.  No 
evils  spring  from  nature,  but  all  spring  from 
men.  In  the  Arctic  regions  one  never  gets  a  cold 
— until  others  come  in ;  and  behold  the  disorder 
starts  at  once.  Nature  alone  is  wonderful,  but 
man  often  spoils  her  wonders.  I  do  not  think 
this  would  be,  were  men  to  grasp  the  knowledge 
of  their  Great  Opportunity. 

You  will  hear  men  offer  remedies  by  the  thou- 
sand for  every  ill  from  which  society  suffers. 
You  will,  possibly,  be  impressed  with  the  clever- 
ness of  many  of  them.  But,  if  you  keep  your 
spiritual  eyes  and  ears  open,  you  will  note  that 
shallowness  is  their  all-embracing  fault.  The 
shallowness  comes  from  the  fact  that  most 
worldly  men  never  think  of  the  real  end  of  their 
existence;  never  know  anything  of  their  Great 
Opportunity,  or  ignore  it.  Consequently,  they 


OPPORTUNITIES  229 

place  the  " accidental"  Opportunity,  which  is  but 
the  means  to  an  end,  as  the  goal  of  their  desires. 
Money  isn't  given  the  rich  for  their  own  pleas- 
ure. It  is  given  to  them  only  as  stewards.  You 
may  say  the  same  of  force,  logic,  business  ability, 
statesmanship,  imagination,  lucidity,  fluency, 
etc.,  etc.  When  the  pleasure  we  get  through  our 
gifts  becomes  the  only  thing  we  deem  desirable, 
we  prostitute  the  gifts.  We  miss  our  Great 
Opportunity. 

Then  what  happens?  Well,  much  the  same 
as  would  happen  if  you  insisted  on  damming  up 
a  river,  because  you  wanted  a  lake  for  your  own 
enjoyment.  You  send  the  water  off  into  streams 
where  none  existed  before.  Things  may  read- 
just themselves  to  the  change ;  but  the  readjust- 
ment has  to  take  into  account  a  flooded  country 
that  once  was  fertile;  a  barren  river-bed  that 
once  was  beautiful ;  the  loss  of  pure  water  to  a 
country  that  once  was  blessed  with  it ;  as  well  as 
some  greater  things  that  all  have  not  vision 
enough  to  see.  God's  streams  in  men's  hearts 
and  souls  are  properly  located.  We  cannot  inter- 
fere with  them  for  the  sake  of  our  own  pleasures 
without  doing  harm.  Sins  are  dams  on  the  chan- 
nels of  God's  grace.  The  dams  shut  it  off  and 
send  it  another  way,  that  is  not  God's  way.  What 
we  keep  of  it  changes  because  it  is  not  flowing 
and  free.  We  make  it  ours,  not  God's.  Stag- 


230  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

nant,  its  life  is  withdrawn  from  it.  No  sparkle 
of  the  sunshine  on  its  bosom  can  make  up  for  the 
loss  of  the  riches  in  its  depths.  Happily,  some 
freshness  is  constantly  coming  in,  which  is  called 
"Sufficient  Grace,"  so  there  is  always  the  Oppor- 
tunity to  get  our  riches  back  again.  To  do  that 
we  have  only  to  destroy  the  dam. 

There  is  only  one  "great"  accidental  Oppor- 
tunity given  us.  That  is  implied  in  the  idea  of 
"vocation."  But  there  are  countless  minor  op- 
portunities which,  if  grasped,  may  still  suffice  to 
bring  us  to  our  legitimate  end.  How  does  the 
one  great,  or  the  many  minor  opportunities  come 
to  us  ?  Through  the  medium  of  our  daily  duties. 
We  may  not  know  when,  but  we  surely  know  how. 
He  who  honestly  tries  to  live  right,  to  do  right, 
to  think  right,  is  not  going  to  miss  his  "voca- 
tion" and  therefore  is  not  going  to  miss  his 
opportunities.  Many  of  them,  the  minor  ones, 
he  has  not  even  dreamed  of.  Right  living,  doing, 
and  thinking  lower  down  the  net  into  the  sea. 
Many  fish  may  come  into  it;  some  we  never 
thought  to  catch,  some  we  never  knew  existed. 


XXV 

LOYALTY 

GOD  tolerates  the  worst  of  us ;  but  men  are  merci- 
less. We  cannot  live  with  a  stone  in  the  breast 
that  beats  like  a  heart,  but  that  feels  non§  of  the 
higher  emotions. 


WHEN  Loyalty  leaves  this  earth  there  will  be 
nothing  worth  while  remaining;  for  the  joy  will 
have  gone  out  of  life. 


LOYALTY 

My  dear  Jack: 

Perhaps  this  letter  should  have  been  written 
long  ago,  instead  of  being  left  till  near  the  end. 
But  I  had  it  in  mind  all  the  time ;  and  only  today 
it  seemed  to  take  shape  and  call  for  its  place 
with  the  others.  I  am  not  sorry  that  I  waited, 
because  the  waiting  gives  the  lesson  a  better 
chance  to  be  remembered ;  asking  your  attention, 
as  it  does,  when  there  is  little  to  follow  that  might 
make  you  forget.  If  you  did  forget  all  the  rest, 
and  only  remembered  the  lesson  of  Loyalty,  I 
think  my  task  would  still  have  been  successfully 
accomplished. 

The  most  touching  short  story  I  ever  read  was 
about  a  beggar  and  his  dog.  I  found  it  when  I 
was  a  little  boy,  cried  over  it,  and  never  quite 
forgot  it.  I  think  the  story  did  a  great  deal  for 
every  dog  I  owned ;  because  it  made  me  like  dogs. 
The  story  itself  was  a  very  simple  one:  only  a 
bit  of  pathos  about  a  beggar-man  and  his  lonely, 
hard  life,  and  the  loyalty  of  a  little  mongrel, 
who  loved  him  so  much  that  he  refused  every 
chance  for  dog  comfort,  in  order  to  be  with  him. 
The  beggar  lost  his  dog  only  when  the  loyal  brute 

233 


234  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

gave  up  his  life  for  his  master ;  and,  in  his  dog 
way,  seemed  to  die  happy  in  doing  it.  The  story 
taught  me  my  first  lesson  in  Loyalty.  I  am  glad 
it  taught  me  the  lesson  young.  Had  I  waited  for 
men  to  teach  it  to  me,  I  fear  I  would  never  have 
learned  it.  Is  it  not  odd  that  from  so  lowly  a 
source  should  come  so  noble  a  lesson?  Yet  not 
very  odd  after  all.  There  was  a  neighbor  of 
mine  in  Michigan — a  lady — who  knew  where 
beautiful  orchids  grew  wild ;  but  she  would  never 
tell  the  secret.  Often  she  was  kind  enough  to 
share  her  treasures  with  the  Rector,  but  never  the 
knowledge  of  where  the  Eector  could  find  them 
for  himself.  "It  is  the  natural  place  for  such 
precious  things  to  grow,"  was  all  she  would  say, 
"in  a  black  swamp."  It  was  like  that  with  my 
first  lesson  in  Loyalty.  I  found  it  in  the  story 
of  a  dog — and  a  mongrel  at  that. 

The  pitiful  part  of  the  story  lay  in  the  fact 
that  the  beggar  had  nothing  except  the  dog  that 
remained  true  to  him,  and  therefore  had  nothing 
to  bffer  the  dog  in  return  for  loyalty  except 
his  love ;  but  the  dog  had  all  of  that.  And  with 
it  he  was  happy  and  contented,  albeit  often  hun- 
gry. I  wonder  how  many  human  loyalties  would 
stand  the  test  of  hunger  ? 

It  is  a  sad  thing  to  say,  my  dear  Jack — but 
there  are  many  sad  truths — that  Loyalty  is  not 
as  popular  a  virtue  today  as  it  once  was.  The 


LOYALTY  235 

days  of  Chivalry  were  the  days  of  Loyalty.  The 
dawn  of  commercialism  brought  about  its  decay. 
There  is  a  great  picture  in  Sir  Walter  Scott's 
" Marmion."  It  is  the  picture  of  Douglas  look- 
ing into  the  eyes  of  his  departing  guest,  Marmion 
himself,  whom  he  despised,  but  had  nevertheless 
entertained  because  he  had  been  sent  by  the 
King.  Douglas  refused  Marmion 's  hand,  and 
gave  his  reasons  without  hesitation : 

"My  manors,  halls  and  towers  have  still 
Been  open  at  my  Sovereign's  will, 
To  each  one  whom  he  lists. 
My  castles  are  my  King's  alone 
From  turret  to  foundation  stone. 
The  hand  of  Douglas  is  his  own; 
And  never  shall,  in  friendly  grasp, 
The  hand  of  such  as  Marmion  clasp." 

It  took  a  pretty  fine  grade  of  Loyalty  in  that 
stern  old  warrior,  to  entertain  a  man  he  so 
despised;  but  he  was  loyal  to  the  slightest  wish 
of  his  King.  Such  as  Douglas  were  most  of  the 
knights  of  old. 

" Business  is  business",  as  a  motto,  has  driven 
out  of  many  modern  men  all  idea  of  Loyalty. 
Business  says  that  it  has  to  be  cold-blooded. 
Perhaps  it  has.  I  do  not  know.  And  yet  I  think 
there  might  be  found  in  a  business  man's  heart 
some  room  for  a  warmer  feeling  than  that  of 


236  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

measured  selfishness.  I  think  that  business  men 
pay  dearly  for  their  adherence  to  their  motto,  by 
the  loss  of  Loyalty  that  results  amongst  their 
helpers.  I  can  understand  why  bees  kill  the 
drones  as  soon  as  they  may  safely  get  rid  of  them ; 
but  humans  are  never  beyond  redemption.  God 
tolerates  the  worst  of  us ;  but  men  are  merciless. 
We  are  surely  like  the  servant  whose  story  Christ 
so  effectively  narrated  to  a  crowd  of  listeners, — 
the  servant  who  was  forgiven  an  enormous  debt 
by  his  master,  but  would  not  forgive  his  fellow- 
servant  a  few  pennies.  " Business  is  business"? 
Yes,  but  perhaps  we  do  not  realize  that  "  busi- 
ness" does  not  yet  really  know  its  own  best  inter- 
ests. I  think  it  would  be  "good  business"  to  be 
human,  for  we  should  be  paid  for  it  in  Loyalty. 
When  Loyalty  leaves  this  earth,  my  dear  Jack, 
there  will  be  nothing  worth  while  remaining ;  for 
the  joy  will  have  gone  out  of  life.  The  reason 
we  are  so  unhappy  today,  in  the  midst  of  pros- 
perity and  comfort,  is  because  we  are  losing 
Loyalty.  We  are  getting  so  that  we  do  not 
understand  it.  We  are  becoming  all  selfish.  The 
beggar-man  of  my  story  loved  his  dog,  and  so 
the  dog  loved  the  beggar-man.  If  a  master  has 
no  love  for  those  who  serve  him,  how  can  he 
expect  them  to  be  loyal  to  him?  Love  is  the 
foundation  of  Loyalty.  Alas!  Love  is  leaving 
us — "Business  is  business".  One  may,  of  course, 


LOYALTY  237 

not  love  his  master,  yet  be  loyal  to  him ;  but  such 
a  man  loves  God,  and  his  Loyalty  is  securely 
founded. 

It  seems  to  me  that  Loyalty  is  the  thing  that 
should  be  most  appreciated  in  business.  I  think 
it  is,  in  spite  of  mottoes  to  the  contrary.  Every- 
one with  a  heart  is  touched  and  made  better  by 
Loyalty.  We  cannot  live  with  a  stone  in  the 
breast  that  beats  like  a  heart,  but  that  feels  none 
of  the  higher  emotions.  I  knew  a  bishop,  God 
rest  his  kind  soul,  who  used  to  preach  "  regu- 
larity" to  his  students  who  always  smiled  at  His 
Lordship's  discourse.  The  smile  never  escaped 
the  Bishop.  '  *  I  know  what  you  are  thinking  of, ' ' 
he  would  say,  "but  you  are  wrong.  You  only 
imagine  that  I  do  not  practice  what  I  preach. 
But  I  am  at  least  regularly  irregular."  I  would 
rather  be  "regularly  irregular,"  as  he  was,  than 
so  regular  that  every  problem  had  to  be  solved 
with  the  unbendingness  of  the  multiplication 
table.  Even  where  regularity  is  made  the  foun- 
dation of  a  life,  as  in  a  monastery,  there  must 
be  days  when  it  is  partially  forgotten.  But  then 
the  exception  fits  admirably  into  the  rule;  and 
irregularity  becomes,  in  a  way,  regular.  Christ 
would  have  condemned  St.  Peter  because  of  his 
denial,  if  He  had  followed  the  rule ;  but  He  did 
not.  He  knew  St.  Peter's  heart,  and  saw  Loyalty 
in  it.  So  He  made  him  Prince  of  the  Apostles. 


238  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

Would  you  have  me  sum  up  all  that  I  have 
written  in  all  these  letters,  into  one  single  coun- 
sel ?  Then  hear  it :  be  loyal — loyal  to  your  God, 
loyal  to  your  country,  loyal  to  your  ideals,  loyal 
to  your  work,  loyal  to  your  superiors,  loyal  to 
yourself. 


XXVI 
BURDEN  BEARERS 

COLD  marble  repays  nothing,  when  the  body  be- 
neath it  is  only  a  lump  of  clay.  Surely  those  who 
received  nothing  from  time  for  bearing  a  world's 
burdens  are  entitled  to  justice  from  the  Eternity 
that  shall  replace  time. 


THE  BURDEN  BEARERS 

My  dear  Jack: 

Last  night,  anew,  I  picked  up  a  copy  of  Seumas 
McManus'  " Ballads  of  a  Country  Boy,"  and 
started  to  dip  here  and  there  into  it.  My  wander- 
ing eye  lit  on  a  poem  that  had  escaped  my  first 
reading  of  these  fine  ballads.  It  was  called  "The 
Silly  Truen."  I  did  not  know  what  a  "Truen" 
was  supposed  to  be ;  but  a  foot-note  told  me  that 
it  is  a  bird  called  "Corn-craik,"  which  in  Irish 
is  known  as  a  "Truen,"  meaning  "strength." 
But  the  bird  belies  its  name;  for  it  is  a  thin, 
ungainly  bird,  with  weak,  spindly  legs.  Its  pecu- 
liarity is  to  lie  on  its  .back  on  the  grass,  with  its 
legs  toward  the  sky,  and  keep  crying  out  some- 
thing that  sounds,  in  Irish,  like  "strength  with 
strength."  The  people  have  a  saying  that  the 
Truen  means  to  say:  "What  wonderful  strength 
for  two  little  feet  of  one  poor  bird  to  hold  up  all 
the  skies!"  Mr.  McManus,  in  his  ballad,  rebukes 
the  "Silly  Truen"  for  his  foolishness,  frightens 
him  to  his  feet  and  to  the  wing.  "And  lo!  the 
skies  moved  not  one  bit  when  his  heels  were 
drawn  away."  But  this  fact  made  no  change  in 

241 


242  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

the  "  Silly  Truen  V  ideas  as  to  his  strength,  for 

.  .„  -.  .  "from  the  distance,  floating  easy,  came  his 

creaking  cries — 
Oh,  wonderful!  one  poor  bird's  feet  to  hold  up 

all  the  shies!" 

Well,  Jack,  I  sympathize  with  the  Truen.  I 
like  the  bird  in  spite  of  his  mistaken  idea  about 
his  strength.  I  wish  men  might  get  the-  same 
idea,  though  in  a  somewhat  different  form.  Bar- 
ring out  the  absurd,  I  wish  more  people  would 
act  as  if,  on  each  and  every  one  of  them  rested 
the  burdens  of  all.  That  would  make  for  a 
greater  feeling  of  responsibility  in  the  human 
race ;  and,  with  responsibility,  would  surely  come 
greater  men  and  women — and  more  real  charac- 
ter. It  is  the  feeling  of  responsibility  that  forces 
men  and  women  to  the  front.  Responsibility 
produces  the  great  poets,  the  great  essayists, 
the  great  statesmen,  the  great  generals.  It 
is  the  feeling  of  responsibility  in  people,  the 
idea  that  they  are  born  to  be  the  Burden 
Bearers,  that  is  to  be  thanked,  under  God,  for 
all  the  morality  and  goodness  and  learning  in  the 
world.  Some  of  the  best  and  greatest  of  men 
were  probably  as  silly  as  the  Truen  about  their 
"strength";  but,  like  the  Truen,  you  could  dem- 
onstrate nothing  to  them ;  and  they  went  on  act- 
ing as  Burden  Bearers.  So  they  did  things,  and 


THE  BURDEN  BEAKEKS  243 

they  do  things,  and  they  will  go  on  doing  things, 
till  the  trump  of  Gabriel  sounds.  And  God 
speed  them,  if  the  things  they  do  are  good  and 
beneficial ! 

It  does  not  hurt  others  a  bit,  but  it  helps  them 
much,  if  some  people  insist  on  being  Burden 
Bearers.  But  it  does  hurt  the  Burden  Bearers 
themselves.  It  hurts  them  very  much,  and 
always  in  proportion  to  the  greatness  of  the  bur- 
den they  think  they  must  carry.  Then,  many  of 
the  Burden  Bearers  are  not  far  wrong  about  the 
fact  of  their  vocation.  God,  without  doubt, 
inspires  still.  He  has  selected  many  Burden 
Bearers — and  they  know  it,  and  live  up  to  it. 
These  are  the  people  who  are  happy  in  bearing 
the  burdens,  and  could  not  be  happy  without 
them.  They  feel  the  weight :  their  backs  are  sore : 
their  limbs  are  tired;  but  take  off  the  burdens 
and  they  die.  Friends  tell  them  to  retire,  that 
they  have  done  their  work,  that  they  needs  must 
rest  in  their  old  age;  but  friends  waste 'their 
breath,  for  these  Burden  Bearers  cannot  retire, 
cannot  rest,  and  do  not  see  that  they  grow  old. 
The  Burden  is  life  to  them ;  and  a  body  free  from 
the  weight  is  only  a  body  looking,  with  wistful, 
tired  eyes,  toward  the  grave. 

In  the  ranks  of  the  human  Truens  are  Popes, 
Emperors,  Kings,  Priests,  Patriots,  Pleaders, 
Enthusiasts,  Statesmen,  Discoverers,  Charity 


244  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

Workers,  Missionaries,  Writers,  Teachers  and — 
oh,  the  wonder  of  the  numbers  of  them ! — Fathers 
and  Mothers.  These  are  the  Burden  Bearers, 
some  of  them  called  " Fools  for  their  pains"; 
some  of  them  fools  in  reality;  but  the  majority 
of  them  God's  servants  who  die  in  His  harness, 
glad  to  wear  it  to  the  end. 

Mr.  McManus  could  frighten  off  his  "  Silly 
Truen,"  but  he  could  not  change  its  sad  and  rasp- 
ing cry.  The  world  may  often  frighten  its  Bur- 
den Bearers,  but  it  cannot  keep  them  silent  nor 
take  away  the  consciousness  of  their  tasks.  They 
are  themselves  as  sad  as  the  cry  of  the  Truen,  and 
sometimes  speak  unpleasantly  enough,  too;  but 
they  are  in  a  sad  business,  and  in  sad  business 
the  voice  takes  on  no  note  of  music.  The  per- 
sistency of  the  Burden  Bearers  is  a  marvel ;  but 
neither  rack  nor  rope  nor  axe  can  ever  reach  an 
inspired  idea. 

Of  course,  the  Burden  Bearers  have  been 
nuisances  to  a  great  many  people;  and  this  is 
another  strange  thing  about  them — that  the 
heavier  the  burden  they  insist  on  bearing,  the 
greater  nuisances  they  are  to  those  who  should 
be  bearing  part  of  it  themselves,  and  the  harder 
some  people  try  to  get  rid  of  them.  The  whole 
might  of  the  Roman  Empire  was  invoked  to  rid 
the  world  of  the  Apostles,  and  it  succeeded ;  but 
their  burdens  were  shifted  to  other  backs,  and 


THE  BURDEN  BEARERS  245 

these  remained  in  spite  of  the  Roman  Empire. 
But  the  Roman  Empire  does  not  remain. 
It  is  dangerous  to  meddle  with  the  Burden 
Bearers. 

Another  strange  thing  about  the  Burden  Bear- 
ers is  often  found  in  their  seeming  inconsistency. 
That  is  because  they  are  human,  and  because 
humanity  has  the  bad  habit  of  not  recognizing 
its  own  limitations.  It  illogically  demands  per- 
fection where  perfection  is  not  possible.  In 
almost  every  case  the  Burden  is  finer  and  better 
than  the  one  who  carries  it ;  but  he  carries  it  in 
spite  of  that.  The  Abbe  Roux  puts  the  case  well 
for  the  religious  Burden  Bearer:  "This  man 
has  his  defects;  yet  he  cherishes  truth  and  de- 
fends justice.  And  petty  souls  exclaim:  'Oh, 
the  inconsistency!  Oh,  the  scandal!'  But  pious 
hearts  say :  'Oh,  the  native  nobility  of  the  man ! 
Oh,  the  happy  contradiction  of  the  Christian!' ' 

Do  I  counsel  you  to  be  a  Burden  Bearer?  I 
do,  if  you  have  a  burden  that  you  feel  you  should 
bear.  I  do,  if  you  feel  that  you  have  none.  Get 
a  burden  and  bear  it.  By  which  I  mean:  take 
unto  yourself  a  responsibility  for  the  sake  of 
others.  Good  men  and  women  should  bear  bur- 
dens not  their  own ;  for  there  are  so  many  who 
will  not  bear  even  their  own.  The  Burden 
Bearers  serve  to  equalize  things.  Since  equality 
is  not  a  possibility,  the  Burden  Bearer  becomes  a 


246  LETTERS  TO  'JACK 

necessity;  or  the  world  goes  fast  to  ruin.  He 
who  does  "just  enough"  falls  short  of  doing 
what  is  required  of  him.  The  "just  enough" 
man  is  the  man  who  is  only  tolerable.  It  takes 
more  than  that  to  be  acceptable,  even  in  ordinary 
society. 

.  It  is  their  souls  that  enable  the  Burden  Bear- 
ers to  carry  their  loads.  The  fact  of  the  existence 
of  Burden  Bearers  is  a  proof  of  the  existence  of 
the  soul.  The  fact  of  their  carrying  burdens  is 
a  proof  of  the  soul's  immortality,  or  "what's  the 
use  ?"  There  is  no  recompense  in  time  that  could 
ever  repay  them.  But  even  if  time  could  repay, 
where  and  when  has  it  done  so  ?  Columbus  died 
in  prison.  Peter  was  crucified  and  Paul  be- 
headed. Socrates  drank  of  the  hemlock.  Milton 
was  blind  and  Shakespeare  to  the  end  only  a 
strolling  actor.  A  Pope  who  "loved  justice  and 
hated  iniquity"  found  it  quite  within  the  ordi- 
nary that  he  should  "die  in  exile."  Andreas 
Hofer  was  shot.  Joan  of  Arc  was  burnt  at  the 
stake.  Abraham  Lincoln  and  Garcia  Moreno  fell 
before  the  assassin's  pistol.  Since  when  was  it 
that  time  repaid  while  yet  there  was  time  to 
repay?  Cold  marble  repays  nothing,  when  the 
body  beneath  it  is  only  a  lump  of  clay.  Surely 
those  who  received  nothing  from  time  for  bear- 
ing a  world's  burdens,  are  entitled  to  justice  from 
the  Eternity  that  shall  replace  time. 


THE  BURDEN  BEARERS  247 

Do  I  counsel  you  to  be  a  Burden  Bearer  ?  I  do, 
because  I  counsel  you  to  be  good,  and  wise,  and 
noble,  and  patriotic.  I  counsel  you  to  have  a 
heart;  and  I  know  that  you  have  a  soul.  If  I 
did  not  counsel  you  to  be  a  Burden  Bearer,  I 
should  be  thus  counselling  you  to  let  the  world 
have  its  way  with  you, — which  God  forbid! 
"Our  soul"  (again  I  quote  the  Abbe  Roux), 
"which  the  world  pretends  to  divert  with  its  van- 
ities, resembles  the  child  which  is  consoled  by 
the  offer  of  a  rattle  instead  of  a  star/'  To  have 
the  star,  Jack,  you  must  in  some  degree  be  a 
Burden  Bearer. 


XXVII 
VISION 

How  good  God  is  to  let  us  regret;  for  by  regrets 
we  keep  humble  and  loving;  by  regrets  we  try  to 
do  the  new  tasks  better.  * 


VISION 
My  dear  Jack: 

I  find  it  inexpressibly  hard  to  write  this  last 
letter  and  I  do  not  know  the  reason  why.  Some- 
how, the  others  came  easy  enough  and  I  never 
once  lost  my  interest  in  them  or  forgot  that  they 
were  the  sweetest  kind  of  labor — a  labor  of  love. 
While  writing  them  I  was  always  seeing  a  thou- 
sand Jacks,  young,  aspiring,  full  of  life,  vigor 
and  happy  curiosity  about  the  future  that  is  fast 
opening  to  their  vision.  It  seemed  so  well  worth 
while  to  give  these  thousands  all  the  time  I  dared 
snatch  from  a  multitude  of  duties,  that  I  was 
full  of  regret  because  I  could  not  give  them  also 
the  thought  that  they  deserved.  It  was  a  droll 
experience  to  see  my  own  head  on  these  thou- 
sands of  shoulders,  my  own  head  as  it  was  at 
twenty.  I  tried  to  speak  to  them  as  I  would  have 
liked  someone  to  have  spoken  to  me  when  I 
needed  advice  and  counsel.  Twenty  ?  Ah  me,  I 
have  more  than  doubled  that  today,  my  forty- 
sixth  birthday;  and  I  find  myself  sad  enough 
to  think  of  the  things  I  might  have  done  better, 
the  missed  opportunities.  I  sadly  feel  the  hope- 

251 


252  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

less  urging  to  try  the  tasks  of  twenty  all  over 
again. 

How  good  God  is  to  let  us  regret:  for  by  re- 
grets we  keep  humble  and  loving ;  by  regrets  we 
try  to  do  the  new  tasks  better.  It  is  only  those 
who  have  made  a  complete  failure  of  life  who 
are  without  regrets,  since  only  the  complete  fail- 
ures are  fools  enough  to  think  that  they  did  all 
things  well.  I  dare  to  believe  that,  next  best  to 
hope  for  the  future,  is  regret  for  the  past.  With- 
out regrets  would  there  ever  have  been  an  Augus- 
tine? Is  it  wrong  to  think  that  Peter's  impetu- 
ous mistakes  were  allowed  by  his  Master  in  order 
to  form  a  part  preparation  for  his  long  and 
fruitful  apostleship  ?  I  always  find  a  solace,  as 
well  as  pain,  in  my  regrets ;  a  strange  strength 
in  thinking  how  I  might  have  avoided  them; 
withal,  a  strong  desire  (which  I  delight  to  think 
is  holy)  to  warn  and  counsel  others,  that  their 
regrets  may  be  fewer  than  my  own — but  never 
a  wish  that  they  should  live  to  forty  and  be 
entirely  without  regrets.  I  suppose  that  it  is  this 
mixed  feeling  that  makes  it  hard  for  me  to  write 
the  last  letter.  I  know  it  is  the  last  and  should 
be  the  last,  but  it  will  always  seem  a  premature 
ending  to  me  who,  at  more  than  forty,  love  the 
thousands  of  Jacks  at  twenty. 

Youth  is  the  age  of  visions,  for  it  is  in  youth 
that  we  stand  on  the  mountain  top  and  look  out 


VISION  253 

over  the  plain  of  our  future  journey — and  youth 
never  looks  behind.  Age  loves  retrospection; 
and,  quite  naturally,  youth  abhors  it.  Success 
depends  on  vision  more  than  we  know.  The 
temptation  of  youth  is  to  limit  that  vision  to  the 
smiling  valley  at  his  feet,  which  is  the  cause  of 
most  of  youth's  failures.  Youth  sees  only  the 
pleasures  of  the  immediate  future.  He  takes  no 
account  of  the  other  valleys  that  lie  behind  the 
high  and  rocky  hills  and  stretch  so  far,  far  away. 
Youth  sees  nothing  of  the  distance  when  song 
comes  up  from  the  valley.  Its  birds  are  calling 
and  its  zephyrs  blow  sweet  on  his  face,  but 
Youth  looks  out  not  at  all,  but  runs  to  his  joy, 
and — to  his  regrets.  Had  he  only  lifted  his  eyes 
to  the  hills ;  had  he  only  counted  the  cost  of  the 
climbing;  had  he  only  anticipated  the  deserts, 
but,  above  all,  had  he  only  seen  the  gray  line  on 
the  horizon  and  marked  the  valley  of  death,  with 
the  hopeful  blue  of  the  sky  above  it,  he  would 
have  understood.  Then  for  him  the  smiling  val- 
ley would  have  been  what  God  intended  it  should 
be — a  place  of  preparation  for  the  journey, 
where  the  trees  grow  fruit  that,  once  gathered, 
lasts  until  the  end ;  where  the  streams  offer  liv- 
ing waters  that  take  out  of  the  desert  half  its 
terrors. 

Oh,  thousands  of  Jacks,  men  in  the  making, 
children  of  that  loving  Father  who  calls  from 


254  LETTERS  TO  JACK 

the  blue  sky  above  the  gray  desert  line,  lift  up 
your  eyes  and  hearts  above  the  valley  and  see. 
At  twenty  Life  spreads  out  before  you.  Take 
an  account  of  it,  and  know  that  it  is  not  play 
but  work,  and  yet  not  work  but  play ;  for  work 
well  done  is  pleasure,  and  pleasure  well  ordered 
is  part  of  life's  labor.  Vision  you  need  at  twenty 
— the  wide  vision,  the  long  vision,  the  sweeping 
vision,  the  vision  splendid. 


SHORT     STORIES     BY     MONSIGNOR     KELLEY 


"The  City  and  the  World" 

By  the  Rt.  Reverend  Francis  Clement  Kelley,  D.D., 
President  of  the  Catholic  Church  Extension  Society 


IT  ISN'T  just  accidental  that  many  of  the  best  stories 
written  deal  with  the  seamy  side  of  life.  Maybe  it's 
because  we  understand  them  better — because  they  so  clearly 
mirror  troubles  of  bur  own — that  stories  of  that  kind 
impress  us  most.  Surely,  if  measured  by  such  a  standard, 
a  priest's  life,  of  all  lives,  ought  to  be  about  the  least  inter- 
esting from  a  story  standpoint.  How,  then,  was  anyone  to 
dream  that  here,  in  the  very  innermost  recess  of  a  priest's 
emotions,  in  the  pulsing  heart-throbs  of  a  famous  mission- 
ary's life,  lay  the  perfect  setting  for  a  wonderful  story  and 
the  background  for  an  inspiring  lesson?  It's  an  entirely 
different  kind  of  religious  story — simple,  straightforward, 
intensely  human.  And,  mind  you,  it's  only  one  of  fourteen 
fascinating,  all-absorbing  short  stories  that  readers  now  can 
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You  have  a  real  surprise  in  store  for  you  when  you  read 
"The  City  and  the  World."  You'll  find  that  Monsignor 
Kelley's  short  stories  are  remarkably  interesting  and  enter- 
taining, too.  You're  sure  to  enjoy  reading  every  single 
one  of  the  entire  fifteen  in  this  volume,  which  contains  the 
remarkable  stories,  "The  Resurrection  of  Alta"  and  "The 
Flaming  Cross." 

"The  City  and  the  World"  will  be  mailed  to  any  address 
postpaid  on  receipt  of  One  Dollar  ($1.00). 

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